


Hiding Away from the Light

by randomlyimagine



Series: Working on from Then to Now [2]
Category: Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: #TeamLet'sKidnapPeople, Fix-It, Kidnapping, Luke and Mara are dropped back in the clones wars, Mind Control, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, More fun than it sounds from those warnings I swear, Multi, No knowledge of Legends/EU necessary, Power Dynamics, Psychological Torture, Suicidal Thoughts, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Undercover, Undercover as Sith, but it's while they're undercover as Sith
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2019-10-14 07:26:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17504198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomlyimagine/pseuds/randomlyimagine
Summary: Being stuck 35 years in the past is hard. Being stuck 35 years in the past, on the run from the both the Jedi and the Sith, while trying to change Galactic history, is harder. Especially when the Jedi all think that you're a Sith, and that you kidnapped the Negotiator and the Hero with No Fear. So Luke Skywalker and Mara Jade aren't exactly having a great time.Then again, they aren't the pseudo-willingly-kidnapped Jedi who just learned that he might become Darth Vader, so maybe that counts for something.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> The first chapter of the sequel to Under the Cover of Darkness is here! If you haven't read Under the Cover of Darkness, you should really read that first, as otherwise you'll miss out on a lot of awesome stuff and also be pretty confused. Also in this series are two short, related one-shots. I rushed this chapter so I could take the time to raise awareness for Fandom Trumps Hate, a fundraiser for charity organizations that help communities most targeted by the current administration. Check out the end notes for more details.
> 
> And thanks as always to the wonderful SapphiraBlue for the beta-ing and endless encouragement
> 
> I don't think there's any warnings for this chapter, but warnings for each chapter will be posted in the start of chapter notes.

As soon as a course was set in the navicomputer and all of the explanations had finished, Mara and Luke disappeared to claim one of few personnel quarters on their stolen freighter.

Anakin didn’t even want to know what they were doing. He wasn’t—he was not even going to _think_ about it.

There was no _it_ to think about.

He was reclining in the pilot seat, staring into the startrail streaks of hyperspace, because being the getaway driver in his own kidnapping felt like the kind of thing he could laugh at, despite everything. And the view had always been both soothing and thrilling, the thrum of the ship calling to him again and again, _we’re going away, we’re going away to the stars_.

There was no greater freedom than the helm of a ship full up on fuel, the whole Galaxy just waiting to be reached. Anakin would know.

The view and the hum of the hyperdrive and the quiet beeping of the computer also helped him ignore Obi-Wan, next to him and in the co-pilot’s seat.

It wasn’t that he was _opposed_ to talking to Obi-Wan. Or acknowledging him. Or whatever. It was just that the past rotation has been _a lot_ , and his understanding of what had been going on with Obi-Wan has been upended _a lot_ , and they might have hashed it out, but Anakin still didn’t quite know how to deal with any of it.

Also, most of the hashing had been done with Obi-Wan’s time travelling ghost, who had also disappeared somewhere, maybe literally. So that didn’t help.

But it was okay. His Master was still here, and somehow didn’t hate him for the future Sithness and past attempted murder.

And in the meantime, hyperspace streaked by.

“You know,” Obi-Wan began after a long, long silence, “I didn’t— That is to say, I wasn’t in on it from the beginning. I just wanted you to know that. He told me _parts_ of what was going on very early on, shortly after I was arrested. But I didn’t believe him. Not until two days ago.”

So, that was something, Anakin supposed. Maybe it made it better, that Obi-Wan hadn’t been lying to him that whole time…

Except that meant that Obi-Wan genuinely had been a prisoner in his own mind for almost a week.

Anakin couldn’t even imagine what that must have been like, especially realizing that Obi-Wan had barely gotten to talk at all that entire time, just had to watch himself be impersonated and have everyone he saw believe it.

Obi-Wan shifted in his seat, ever so slightly.

Which made Anakin realize that he’d let the silence go on awkwardly long.

He was good at a lot of things. Lightsabers, mechanics, flying. Not words, though. Even he could admit that.

Padmé still hadn’t stopped teasing him about the pear.

“I’m sorry—” was what came out of Anakin’s mouth when he tried to reply. _What the fuck, words?_ But he did mean it, so… “I’m really sorry I…” he could say it. He could. He…he probably couldn’t avoid the Dark Side if he couldn’t even reference why he needed to. “I’m really sorry for the cell. I shouldn’t have…done that. I’m…I’m sorry I tried to kill you.”

Obi-Wan let out a long, slow breath. Anakin forced himself not to bristle—if Obi-Wan was angry, he had every right to be.

“And I’m sorry that it was so easy for you to do so,” Obi-Wan replied, “and that I never even realized.” His eyes were pinched in what Anakin recognized as—

“Oh, you do not get to beat yourself up for my shitty choices _or_ my attempted murder _of you_!”

That actually startled Obi-Wan into making eye contact. “Oh. Well, still. As your former Master, it was my responsibility—”

“And as a Jedi, it was my responsibility to not try to murder unarmed prisoners, _or_ my Master.”

Sure, his relationship with Obi-Wan hadn’t always been…great. There had been the first few years, his insecurities crashing up against what he had only later recognized was Obi-Wan’s grief. And even after that, he’d often chafed against Obi-Wan’s restrictions, and against Obi-Wan as a proxy for all of the Jedi Order’s restrictions, against the fact that Obi-Wan had called him _dangerous_ when they’d met, against—

Well, against a lot of things, honestly. But in the end, it didn’t matter. He was Obi-Wan’s former Padawan. They were The Team.

Sometimes, in his most private, quietest thoughts, ones hidden far away from their bond, Anakin wondered if that was what having a brother was like.

Brothers could fight, but it rarely mattered in the end.

Or so holodramas suggested, anyway. He wouldn’t know.

Obi-Wan, maybe startled by his words, or his vehemence, or maybe just being inscrutable, had stayed quiet. Anakin swallowed. He really, dearly wanted to never think about what he’d learned again, but he couldn’t risk it. “I’ve…struggled with my temper for a while. You know that. But it’s not your fault. I could have stopped myself from doing that, and I—didn’t. But I swear to you, Obi-Wan, I won’t do that to you ever again. And I won’t let myself Fall.”

Once again, Obi-Wan let out a long breath. But he held Anakin’s eyes as he answered, “I believe you.”

\--

“Beds are the greatest invention ever,” Luke murmured into Mara’s hair. “I don’t know why we all decided leaving ever bed was a good idea. Pft, space travel. _Beds_.”

Mara snorted against his neck. “If you never left the bed, who would teach your poor students?”

“No one. I wouldn’t have students, ‘cause they’d all be in their beds too. Forever. Cozy.”

“Mmm. Sounds nice.” Silence reigned for a moment. “Until we die of dehydration.”

Luke poked Mara in the shoulder with his flesh hand—the one that wasn’t trapped under her stomach. “No fun. Y’r no fun.”

“When we want to move on from cuddling, I’ll prove you so wrong,” Mara murmured, knowing he could feel her smile against his skin.

That would not, Mara knew, be anytime soon. Luke loved cuddling.

And she would stab someone before admitting it anywhere remotely public—although admittedly her stabbing someone wasn’t the Galaxy’s highest threshold—but so did she. Especially after a month as _overwhelming_ as hers had been.

But hey, she could cross time travel off her bucket list. Time to move onto the next item: getting Han Solo to shut up about something.

“Mmm,” Luke sighed. “’See abou’ that…”

Mara had one hand pressed against the small of Luke’s back, and the other resting on his hair. It was the latter that began to move slowly, motions gently stroking.

Sometimes she still wondered how the fuck she’d gotten where she was. Tangled in a ridiculous, blissful pile of limbs with the Jedi that had been the cause of the Emperor’s death, however indirectly.

Maybe she only knew the most literal answer to how she’d gotten there, but she was so, so glad she had.

\--

Anakin swallowed and tried to force his body to _stay still_. He didn’t need to be almost bouncing in his seat or tripping over his own tongue when the holocall went through.

It was ringing. Each second between the rings was like its own agony.

…Maybe Ahsoka was onto something about him being dramatic.

But he had reason to be! He was calling—

Padmé’s image appeared over the transmitter, blue-tinted and rippling. “Anakin? What’s going on? With everything you told me, when you stopped responding to my calls, I was worried. And why are you calling from an unknown comm?”

They had taken pains to set up a totally secure, close-link comm system, given the risks and public nature of their jobs. Anakin had almost never contacted Padmé without using it, and she’d done the reverse even less.

“Yeah, sorry,” he said, not quite managing to make eye contact with her image. “Things have been…umm, well, it’s complicated…I didn’t mean to worry you that much, I’ve only been gone for a day, Coruscant-time.”

Padmé’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean _gone_? Have you been redeployed? And I was worried because you had messaged me about urgently needing to talk in the morning. Your message made it sound like you were really struggling, and like you wanted to say something about…well, about us, maybe. But then you never responded.”

 _Oh_. Yeah, he had sent that message the night before. Right before going to work on the _Twilight_ until a fairly improbable hour of the night, and dragging Ahsoka with him.

“Yeah, that message. Umm,” Anakin rubbed at the back of his neck. “Right. Well, it was less, uh, something about us and more something about _me_ , that I was—yeah, struggling with. That I thought you should know for, like, the sake of us. And you. If that makes sense.”

“Not really, to be completely honest,” Padmé said, her expression gentle, but…something. Anakin had no idea what. Confused, probably, given everything, hopefully not hostile, not already, but he should know way too well what hostility looks like after everything—

“I almost killed Obi-Wan,” he blurted.

Padmé gasped. “I’m so sorry, Anakin. What happened? Was there some sort of accident? Are you both okay?”

She was so ready to give him the benefit of the doubt. Completely sure it was some sort of accident. And even after he admitted to something like _that_ , he was first in her thoughts, not Obi-Wan. She didn’t even seem to _wonder_.

And why not? After all, she wouldn’t have married a _murderer_.

Except that she had. Knowingly. She had known full well what he’d done to the Tuskens when she’d said her vows, and he could tell himself they weren’t _people_ all he wanted, could actually still pretty much believe that, but…they’d had children. And she’d married him.

“It wasn’t an accident.”

Padmé’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean by that, Anakin? Did something happen with the entity possessing him?”

Anakin grimaced. He did not want to talk about it, _he did not want to talk about it, he did not want to talk about it_ —

That was half of why he’d sent the message to Padmé. So he couldn’t try to back out. He needed to do this, he’d promised Obi-Wan and Ahsoka and his son and Ben that he’d be better, that he’d never become that, and if it was supposed to happen, so soon, and he’d had no idea it was even fucking coming…clearly something about what he was doing needed to change. Lots of things. Starting with owning up.

Padmé had excused him for the massacre of the Tuskens. She’d been uneasy with it, sure, but she had told him it wasn’t his fault, that they’d kidnapped his mother, that she _understood_. He’d always viewed that as sanctuary and absolution…but thinking about what he would some day do to the Temple, to Ben, he was forced to wonder, for the first time, if maybe it hadn’t been.

Anakin swallowed. “I was so mad at the entity, I tried to kill it. By strangling Obi-Wan. With a Dark technique. I knew it would kill Obi-Wan too, and I was so angry, I almost didn’t stop until it was too late.”

Padmé’s eyes widened. Anakin thought she might be shocked. “I knew you had difficulties with Obi-Wan sometimes, I knew the situation was stressful, but I never would have imagined…”

Anakin cut in almost before she’d finished trailing off. “I think I should have seen it coming. I don’t…I’ve struggled, with the Dark Side, before. You know that. But they told me what I become, and…it’s awful. I can’t…In the future, I really _do_ murder Obi-Wan. I march on the Temple and massacre everyone inside. I help the Sith plunge the galaxy into an Empire of slavery and death, and enforce it with blood.”

“I don’t…” Padmé started slowly, before her back straightened and her face set and she seemed to rally herself once more. “You’re right. This is something we need to talk about. Both with regards to you, and with regards to this Empire that apparently is about to sprout up and overthrow the Republic.”

Anakin forced himself not to react. Her expression didn’t mean she hated him ( _you hope_ , something in him whispered). It didn’t. And of course she cared about what was going to happen to the Republic—that was literally her job.

He forced himself to take a long, slow breath. It might have helped, a little—Jedi meditation techniques good for something, for once, maybe.

“Yeah. Yeah, we’re gonna talk. About all of it. And first off, Padmé, you should know—I am _never_ going to do any of that. I am _never_ going to let that happen to me.”

Padmé’s face contorted, somehow. Then, “I believe you.”

\--

Padmé flicked the comm off and just stared at it, her hand falling back in her lap.

That had been…a _lot_ to take in. Too much, perhaps.

But what felt, what she could stand, those didn’t matter. Oh, in her relationship with Anakin, certainly. But not in the coming fall of the Republic.

Slowly, her hands clenched into fists. Her personal feelings, her relationships with Anakin, her fears about him and maybe even of him (maybe even not for the first time)—she knew she’d have to deal with those. Keep dealing with those. And she would.

But in the meantime, she had a political enemy in front of her. And that had always been when Padmé Amidala was at her best.

With a deep breath, she reached back for the comm. Left a text-only messaged on the general comm of Anakin’s stolen ship, addressed to Ben. (The entity. The _future ghost of Obi-Wan Kenobi_. What was her life?)

Her husband was on the run. But she wasn’t.

Pressing on the comm’s buttons with a very carefully reasonable amount of force, she keyed in an address through long familiarity. Her comm with Anakin would have to broaden its duties, in the face of the security she would need.

A familiar, blue-tinted face flickered into existence in front of her. “Padmé?”

She took a subtle, steeling breath. “Bail. Good to hear from you. I’m afraid something has recently come to my attention. It’s a matter of utmost urgency.”

\--

“So,” Ahsoka began, looking up at where the blue shape of Ben, as he’d told her to call him, had drifted into the ship’s small galley. “Wanna kick my ass at dejarik?”

The Jedi didn’t really go in for any luxuries on their spacecrafts, but as far as they were concerned, holo boards for dejarik did not fall within the realm of indulgence.

After all, there were Padawans to teach. Or, more commonly in Ahsoka’s experience, humiliate.

But Ben graced her with a gentle smile. “I’d be happy to play, of course, but I am _terribly_ out of practice.”

Ahsoka didn’t bother hiding her snort. Being a few millennia out of practice probably wouldn’t stop him from beating her at her current skill level. “Yeah, _sure_. Sit down and pick your side.” She blinked. “ _Can_ you sit down?”

“Approximately.”

Apparently Master Obi-Wan wouldn’t change the way he answered questions anytime soon, so Ahsoka ignored his equivocation with long practice as he did, in fact, sit down.

\--

She lost to Ben faster than she’d ever lost to Obi-Wan. Out of practice, her entire montrals.

\--

Luke and Mara didn’t turn up again until the next morning, ship time, but when they did, they were almost astonishingly non-rumpled and far happier than Ahsoka had ever seen them. More settled, somehow.

They were also wearing Jedi robes, which might have added to her impression that they were settled, and also, was _weird_. They weren’t just wearing the cloaks they’d worn for the escape, either—actually, neither was wearing the cloaks, but both Luke and Mara were in a pale set of Jedi tunics, a stark change from the rumpled, black outfits and basic, black, Jedi-supplied substitutes they’d worn while imprisoned. Though neither, Ahsoka noticed, were wearing all of the many layers.

Also, when Luke brought over some caff to join Mara on the galley bench opposite Ahsoka, they leaned into each other, if subtly, Mara’s hand coming to rest on Luke’s thigh.

Ahsoka had _heard_ that Luke hadn’t known _No Attachments_ was a thing, Anakin had certainly been loud enough about it. She’d also heard him being loud about Luke’s apparent marriage to Mara, which, wow. And it wasn’t like Jedi were never physically affectionate with each other…

But it was _really weird_ to look at.

She was the only other one there, too. Ben had followed Obi-Wan into the cockpit shortly after Ahsoka had gotten up, and Anakin wouldn’t manage to drag himself out of bed for at least an hour without some sort of coercion.

Maybe Mara would let her practice more with the handcuffs. Just to keep it from getting awkward.

\--

“Our first step,” Ben said, once they were all assembled around the galley’s slightly cramped table, “is damage control.”

“No,” Mara cut in, resoundingly ignoring the look Anakin was giving her. “Our first step is staying hidden. I know better than anyone what resources Sidious will bring down on us once he realizes that Anakin’s gone, and the first thing we need to do is either ditch the ship or disguise it.”

“Stealing a new ship would probably be easier,” Luke offered, “but then they’d almost certainly find out where we’d been when this ship turns up. Not to mention that it’s well-stocked for our needs, since it was sitting ready for Jedi missions. The extra Jedi robes alone are amazing. Applying blisters to alter the profile and changing the ship’s signature and idents would be a bit more time-consuming, but it would also make it easier to stay discrete.”

Not to mention that Obi-Wan, at least, disliked the idea of leaving Order property—and Order technology—around the Galaxy, where any pirates or scavengers or even Separatist agents looking to perform false flag operations could find it.

Maybe—probably—Ben had had the same thoughts, because he nodded at Luke suggestion. “Then we’ll keep the ship, unless anyone objects?”

Anakin looked like he might say something—purely on the merit of it being Mara’s plan, Obi-Wan suspected. But he stayed quiet.

“Very well,” Ben nodded, his shape almost wavering with the motion. “We’ll have to move quickly on that; the Council may have decided to keep this matter classified for fear of alarming the Chancellor or Senate, or sharing Order business, but now that Anakin and my younger self are gone, that will change. We need to be prepared for him to have photos of and intelligence on all of us—including me, in the latter case.”

A series of nods.

“I know that none of you know the full story of the downfall of the Republic. I will share it with you in time, of course, but for now I must ask you to trust me when I say that our next step is to find a way to sneak onto Kamino.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm back!
> 
> So I have decided I'm going to post this fic as I complete its arcs, rather than when I complete the whole thing, because this is gonna be LONG. Also it might turn into two fics? Not yet sure. But anyway I have mostly written out the first arc, which is gonna come to about 30k. There will probably be 4-5 arcs, so...yeah.
> 
> That's a lot more than last time (twice as much), and work has been A Lot lately, and I'm kinda burnt out, so I figured I needed some momentum if I wanted to keep going forward with this. Turns out posting fic and getting kudos/reactions/comments is a great way to get that momentum, hint hint...
> 
> A new chapter should go up every Saturday until I finish posting Part 1. And thanks as always to SapphiraBlue for being an awesome beta/supporter.
> 
> Warnings: Discussion of past and hypothetical mind control; The Council's Opinions

The problem with their plan to sneak onto Kamino by contacting Rex and Cody, of course, was that the 501st and the 212th were both still stationed on Coruscant.

“Not to mention that the Council will likely soon let them know about our situation,” Obi-Wan mused. “If there’s any chance we could contact them before they find out what happened, and are warned against trusting us—”

Anakin coughed. “Umm. It’s a bit too late for that.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “Please, do explain what you mean by that.”

“I might have…told them?” Anakin said, rubbing the back of his neck. _Honestly, what did Obi-Wan expect?_

Obi-Wan sighed. “Ana—”

“It wasn’t fair! The Council wasn’t going to tell them anything that happened, even though they helped us capture Luke and—and Mara. And they weren’t even going to tell Cody when we all thought you were possessed by a Sith and there might not be any way to fix it! They were just gonna leave Cody waiting for his next deployment and wondering why you weren’t finishing your paperwork.”

Ahsoka snorted. “And of course if you were telling Cody, you had to tell Rex.”

“ _Of course_ I had to tell Rex.”

“So.” Jade’s eyes glinted as she cut in. “Rex and Cody, your and Obi-Wan’s commanders, both have been told that Obi-Wan has been possessed and can no longer be trusted. Do either of them have any reason to think this about you or Ahsoka?”

“Umm.” Anakin’s eyes narrowed in calculation. “Well, I didn’t tell them anything, but as soon as they know I’m gone, they’ll probably start to wonder. They’ll know that the only way I would leave at a time like this is if I was trying to save Obi-Wan, or if something happened to _me_. But Ahsoka might be able to talk to them…”

“Or you could comm them and pretend you caught Obi-Wan and need their help saving him somehow,” Luke said. “You have a totally plausible reason for not telling the Jedi first, too, after how they reacted to everything.”

“Not to mention that if the Jedi Council knows,” Jade said, “Sidious will likely find out.”

Anakin had, in general, been trying to ignore Mara Jade as much as possible, since he’d woken up on the ship. Sure, he’d been told she wasn’t evil, but that only made it even _more_ awkward in some ways. When he’d been told his son had a wife, he’d been overjoyed, almost resolved to like her, a woman who had joined Luke in defying the Jedi Code (not that Luke had known that, but technicalities), who’d been in a situation so like his and Padmé’s.

Finding out his son’s wife was the Sith Lord he’s spent days interrogating, being taunted by, and threatening to kill…

As much as Anakin didn’t like the Jedi Council, at that moment, he might have liked them better than Jade. And they might have been a lot of uptight assholes—with the sometimes exception of Obi-Wan—but they wouldn’t _give information to a Sith Lord_.

Obi-Wan said as much.

There was an awkward silence.

Ben’s mouth had shrunk into a thin, tight line. Jade looked like predator lying in wait. Luke looked resignedly amused.

“I’m sure,” Ben said, very precisely, “that Mara is referring to whatever spies and unholy Sith abilities have given the Separatists so much insight into the Republic’s war effort.”

“Oh,” Jade drawled, “is that what I’m referring to?”

Ben’s eyes narrowed. “Will you all please give Ms. Jade and I a minute?” He floated back a bit toward the next room, in as fine and prissy a form and Anakin had ever seen on his Obi-Wan.

“I thought we were in agreement that it could be dangerous to not have everyone on the same page of flimsi,” Mara said, not moving an inch. “I’m sure that whatever it is, you can discuss it with me here.”

“Yes, yes, you’re both very pretty,” Obi-Wan— _Anakin’s_ Obi-Wan—said, his dry tone at odds with his words. “With that settled, perhaps you two wouldn’t mind letting us in on whatever it is you’re _discreetly_ arguing about?”

Anakin would have had to hide a laugh if he wasn’t so suspicious of the situation.

Normally he’d assume Jade was in the wrong, especially when against Obi-Wan’s future self, but she seemed to be the one in favor of sharing information with him…

Ben’s eyes seemed to bore into Jade. “This will end badly.”

She seemed unphased by the glare, the words, and Ben’s ghostliness. “So you’ve said.”

“What Mara is trying to say,” Luke said, much more serious but still with the weirdest edge of amusement, “is that we know who Darth Sidious is.”

 _Very_ weirdly placed amusement. But that wasn’t as important as the Sith’s identity. “Who?” Anakin demanded, leaning halfway across the table before he realized.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, “please do enlighten us, now that you’ve all finally deigned to tell us.”

Anakin’s gaze darted over to Obi-Wan, then back. Why did his Master sound like he’d been arguing about that extensively?

Ben, Luke, and Jade exchanged tense glances.

Finally, it was Luke who spoke: “Darth Sidious is Chancellor Palpatine.”

“ _What did you say?”_

Luke blinked, Anakin noticed, distantly—he looked confused, maybe—

But he wasn’t allowed to be confused, not after saying _something like that_.

“I said,” Luke began again, slower, “that Darth Sidious is currently masquerading as Chancellor Palpatine.”

 _Masquerading_. “So he kidnapped Palpatine, then—he’s taken his place, we have to save him—”

“Anakin.” When had Ben gotten so close? “Anakin, I’m so sorry. But Sidious hasn’t kidnapped Palpatine. They’ve always been the same person.”

“That’s impossible,” Anakin forced out.

Palpatine wasn’t a Sith Lord, Palpatine was one of his only friends.

There was movement around him, but Anakin couldn’t care.

Palpatine had never acted like a Sith. He’d always been kind, always had a moment for Anakin, always had advice, no matter what, even after he’d been kidnapped, he’d taken time for Anakin—

Kidnapped. Anakin had had to rescue the Chancellor from Dooku, that terrible, terrible week that Obi-Wan had faked his death.

“No, no, Dooku kidnapped him, if he was a Sith Lord Dooku couldn’t have kidnapped him.”

“I never learned the details, I’m afraid,” Ben said, talking down to him, like he was some skittish, pathetic child, about to break, “but my understanding is that Dooku was Palpatine’s Apprentice. I believe they planned that kidnapping together.”

 _But_ …

“I don’t…” Anakin felt himself swallow. “Do you have any proof?”

He couldn’t be considering this, could he?

But it answered something, didn’t it? It answered why Anakin would Fall—or at least part of it. He hated the Sith, would never, ever have joined Dooku.

But if Palpatine had asked him…

“I’d rather like to know that as well,” Obi-Wan’s voice said. “After all, this is a rather extraordinary claim.”

That was something, if it wasn’t just him, if Obi-Wan didn’t believe them either, then maybe there was still hope.

“Nothing from this time period,” Jade said. “He’s skilled at covering his tracks, and we haven’t exactly been in a position to look. But we can show you our memories.”

Obi-Wan spoke again: “Memories can be manipulated. That’s the entire reason that my future self never showed me his memories as proof of his claims: he knew I wouldn’t have believed him.”

“Why would we lie about this?” Luke asked, voice gentle. It sounded like a genuine question.

“Maybe you hate Palpatine for something he did in the future,” Anakin said, grasping. Because what was worse: that his son was lying to him again, or that one of his only friends always had been?

“Palpatine did do a lot to me,” Mara said, but something in her voice warned Anakin it wasn’t the agreement he hoped for. “He trained me in the Force and raised me to be his personal assassin.”

Yeah. That wasn’t the agreement he’d wanted at all.

“I’m with Skyguy and Master Obi-Wan,” Ahsoka said, voice unusually hesitant. “This is a lot. I want to see those memories.”

Mara and Luke glanced at each other.

“Okay,” Luke said.

“But it’ll probably have to be my memories,” Mara added. “Luke only met the Emperor once, and Sidious had been disfigured beyond recognition by then.”

Anakin took a deep breath.

If what they were saying was true…if what they were saying was true, he had to know.

“Show me.”

\--

Mace Windu had a headache. The rapid-fire questions from the rest of the members of the Council were only making it worse.

Well, the rest of the members of the _assembled_ Council.

“We do not know,” Mace’s voice cut into the chatter, which immediately died as the beings surrounding him began to act like the Jedi Councilors they were, and not a band of Coruscanti schoolchildren. “We do not know much of anything. Cin Drallig and the Temple Guard will be going over all relevant and remaining surveillance information, and will prepare a report. Someone will take over the interrogation of the bounty hunter and the Sith Inquisitor. But until all of that happens we are here to discuss what we _do_ know.”

Silence.

“A basic timeline, have we put together?” Yoda croaked. His voice sounded even more discordant and tired than usual, probably because it was four in the morning on Coruscant.

“Mostly,” Mace answered. “The entity once again attempted to erase surveillance footage, presumably as a stalling tactic, given that we outright told it we had the overrides just before it revealed itself. The erasure was hasty, and I restored the footage while waiting for all of you to get the summons, finish up your operations, and holocall in.” Because part of the reason the entire shitty situation was able to occur, was that there were only five Councilors in the Temple. Four, not counting Obi-Wan—which clearly they couldn’t.

“The entity broke out of its cell at 11:30pm Local Time. It slipped through a circular hole that had been cut in the ceiling, leading to the crawlspace between layers of the Temple. It then proceeded to knock out the guards watching the other cells, break into the complex with Vexion and Skywalker’s son, free them, and leave Volyn and the Inquisitor behind. It retrieved the effects of Vexion and Luke Skywalker, including the lightsabers they were captured with. The three then used extra cloaks the entity had gathered before the jailbreak to sneak over to the hangar, where Anakin Skywalker and Ahsoka Tano caught them and engaged them in battle.”

“And were taken,” Plo Koon rumbled, voice as tight as Mace had ever heard of it. No surprise, given that the Kel Dor had been banned from taking on Tano as a Padawan due to their closeness.

“Correct,” Mace said. “Surveillance footage from the hangar does not show the inside of the ship, so we cannot be sure what happened. The most obvious explanation is that the entity used Obi-Wan’s body and Skywalker’s son to lure Skywalker and Tano on board, and then managed to shut the bay doors behind them.”

“The most obvious explanation,” Ki-Adi Mundi said slowly, “but not the only one. How sure are we of Skywalker’s loyalties?”

There was a heavy pause.

Normally, when Skywalker’s character was questioned, Obi-Wan jumped to his defense. But Obi-Wan wasn’t there.

“Knight Skywalker certainly has his issues,” Shaak Ti finally began, “but I do not believe loyalty to the Order is one of them. And even if it were, he takes perceived slights and betrayals very harshly: I struggle to imagine that Skywalker would be willing to side with the Sith that has taken over his Master.”

“Troubled, the relationship between Obi-Wan and Skywalker has been.”

“And if they were in a rough patch, it would only give him less reason to go along with such a plan,” Shaak answered smoothly, and Master Yoda nodded in response, eyebrows furrowed and ears still drooping.

But Ki-Adi, clearly, did not agree: “I am hard-pressed to see how Skywalker running off with his Master and future son, after putting up an incredibly token resistance, indicates his loyalty is unquestionable. He has had an incredibly tumultuous time recently, and we have in his son full proof that he is willing to break the Code. And yet we let him take point on questioning the Sith despite that—a mistake, considering how easily they could have convinced him to Fall.”

“That’s a serious charge, Master Mundi,” Stass Allie said. Her mouth was pursed, but she didn’t contradict him.

“After Skywalker’s reaction to and diligence in this matter,” Plo interjected, “I hope we are not seriously contemplating that he’s part of a Sith conspiracy.”

“Why not?” Eeth Koth said, with characteristic bluntness. Mace could feel his headache intensifying just in anticipation of whatever the fuck the man was going to say next. “He knew we were going to kill his son anyway.”

 _And there it is,_ Mace thought, as he pinched his brow in a futile effort to ward off the pain.

The worst part of it was that, strictly speaking, Eeth Koth wasn’t _wrong_. Luke Skywalker had Fallen to the Dark Side. As the Jedi Council, they had known it was their responsibility to deal with that, by whatever means necessary.

Sure, Vexion had claimed that Falls could be temporary, that Luke Skywalker could return to the Light. But she was a Sith Lord—her intel was dubious at best. And as much as Mace might have very quietly prayed to the Force that it was true, for his Fallen former Padawan’s sake, Vexion had not said anything until just before the breakout.

Except to Skywalker. Who was reliably loyal to _people_ over organizations and causes, however much it infuriated the Council; who was brought up outside the Jedi Order, by a mother, knowing the bonds of family; who had always struggled with attachment; and who would _almost certainly_ be desperate to save his future son.

None of the Councilors bothered to object to Eeth Koth’s statement. They had been planning to perfunctorily try and execute all four of their prisoners. The subject of the most debate hadn’t even been Luke Skywalker, but Volyn, who—as a non-Force-sensitive bounty hunter—didn’t necessarily fall under their jurisdiction.

“And,” Eeth said after a moment, “he might well have assumed we were going to execute Master Kenobi on top of it.”

Mace sighed. It was going to be a very, very long meeting.

\--

There was a whoosh as the door slid open. “Skyguy?”

Anakin sighed. He wanted to burrow deep into the blankets of his berth. He wanted to pretend to be asleep. He wanted to tell Ahsoka to go away.

But he was her Jedi Master, so he couldn’t.

 _Fucking responsibility_ , he thought, forcing himself to roll over, away from the wall and toward her.

“Hey Snips,” he said. He was still lying flat on the bed and pillow, but he’d muster the energy to get the rest of the way up any second.

Any second…

“You okay?” Ahsoka asked, tentative in the way she’d been for most of the trip, in the way she almost never was.

 _Fuck_. “I’m fine, Snips. Don’t you worry about me—it’s my job to worry about you.”

Ahsoka snorted, then her eyes widened, like she hadn’t meant to do that. But the apparent embarrassment didn’t stop her from saying, “Yeah, I can tell how fine you are by the way you’ve been holed up in here pretending to sleep for the past five hours.”

“How do you know I wasn’t actually sleeping.”

“Please, we can _all_ feel you in the Force. The turmoil and all. The others are gonna send someone to check on you if you don’t come out in another hour, but I snuck over here while they were arguing about who.”

That was Snips. Not letting any adults stop her from doing what she wanted to do, and sometimes doing it before they even noticed.

Anakin could relate to that.

He managed to sit up.

“C’mere,” he said, patting the bed next to him. “Tell me about how _you’re_ doing.”

Ahsoka slumped a little at that, but she did sit. “I’m fine.”

“You just found out that the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic is a Sith Lord,” and yes, Anakin was proud of himself for managing to say that without flinching, “of course you’re not fine.”

“Yeah, well you just found out your close friend is a Sith Lord, so you’re probably worse.”

Anakin sighed. “Yeah, probably. But hey, technically, it’s like the fifth time I’ve found that out in the past couple weeks. So, y’know.”

“What, it’s an old hat? Please, Skyguy. As _if_.”

Rolling his eyes, Anakin said, “Yeah, fine, you’re right. But I’m your Master, not the other way around.”

“So, what, you’re gonna talk me through _my_ issues about this, like you don’t have way more?”

 _Yes,_ he was, because—

 _Fuck_.

“You know what Snips, you’re right—yeah, yeah, whatever enjoy it. I’m probably not up to being supportive right now. But Master Obi-Wan probably is, so you’re gonna go talk to him or Old Ben about it, okay? And I’m gonna call Padmé, so no refusing to leave me alone to cry by myself, okay? Because I won’t be.”

Ahsoka let out a low, tired laugh. “Fine, Skyguy. But you better let them know you’re calling Padmé, so they don’t interrupt your phone sex!”

“Hey—! We’re not—!” But the door had already closed behind her.

\--

“Padmé,” Bail said, brows furrowed and voice heavy. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the seriousness of what you’re telling me. But I’m not sure we can risk bringing it to the attention of the others if you will not name your source.”

Padmé could feel her office chair pressed against her perfectly straight spine and the elaborate ties of her dress. “This is the proof we’ve never had—that the Chancellor, no matter what he says, is up to no good. After all, we all know what the Sith have done to the Republic.”

“And to the majority of the Galaxy and the majority of senators, that danger is in the past. The Sith are a thousand years dead, wiped out by the Jedi, in what half the Galaxy thinks was an undefined religious disagreement—if they even know of the Jedi-Sith War. The Sith Empire is forgotten. Only historians remember what the Sith were, or what the stood for. Even I don’t truly know that—and I am far more involved with the Jedi than the vast majority of the Galaxy.”

“There’s an actual monument commemorating the Jedi-Sith War near the entrance of the Senate building!”

“Yes, and the stonework is incredible,” Bail said, almost smiling, just for a second. “Padmé, the Sith aren’t real to anyone, not anymore. The people of the Galaxy are worried about the Separatists, the war, and even the Jedi. In all that, we’ll have no luck convincing them they should fear a fairy tale.”

Padmé closed her eyes briefly and sighed. “Damn the Chancellor’s decision not to publicly accuse Dooku of being a Sith. A Sith kidnapped Ana—General Skywalker, and no one even knows it.”

Bail hummed very deliberately. “Convenient for the Chancellor, that only the handful of senators who’ve been in the field with Jedi know, and we’ve all been sworn to secrecy. At least, if what you say about the Chancellor is true.”

“It is, Bail,” Padmé said, letting as much of her sincerity, her fear into her voice as she could. Queens of Naboo were supposed to be restrained—but restraint had never come naturally to Padmé. “I swear to you on Naboo itself, and all her gods, the Supreme Chancellor is a Sith Lord, and he plans to turn the Republic into an Empire.”

“Then give me evidence, Padmé, please.”

“You can’t just trust me?” Padmé’s tone was too sharp, she knew even as it came out—this was not her political voice, not her best, but she _trusted_ Bail, and the thought of what would happen, what _Anakin_ would _do_ —

“I do believe you, Padmé,” Bail said, and he was sincere. Bail was the rare politician that seldom faked sincerity. “But it is an extraordinary claim, and if we want anyone else to believe us, we will need extraordinary evidence. Without that, even those Senators in the Delegation currently organizing in opposition to Palpatine won’t take it seriously. And if they don’t take it seriously, we risk them telling someone—and risk it getting back to the Chancellor.”

 _That was_ not _going to happen_. Padmé couldn’t—she wouldn’t let it. “Then,” she said, tone as firm as Naboo’s Palace walls, “I will _find_ that evidence.”

\--

“Hey,” Luke said, plopping himself down in the ship’s copilot seat. “Wanna go have distraction sex?”

Mara snorted—against her will, Luke was pretty sure. But she’d showed some humor, and that was a good start.

“Distraction sex?” she asked, voice tinted with amusement.

“Yep. It’s what one does when one has had a really shitty few hours, especially after one comes off several weeks of enforced celibacy.”

Rolling her eyes, Mara said, “You know that baby Vader already thinks we spent the whole time before the meeting fucking, right?”

Luke blinked. He had missed that one. “That was almost eight hours.”

Mara’s grin was sharp. “Yep.”

Since arriving in the past, she’d only ever called Anakin “baby Vader” a handful of times—all of them when she was unusually on edge.

(So he at least noticed some things, Luke reassured himself.)

“Well, he can deal.” Luke said. “You’re what’s important right now. You, and getting you out of your head.”

“Getting everyone _else_ out of my head, you mean.”

“That too,” Luke nodded.

He and Mara had discussed it in advance, the confrontation and the memory-sharing. She had _not_ been happy with the conclusion they’d come to—that Luke’s memories were far, far too equivocal to meet the standards of proof they’d needed to show. He’d only peripherally known the Emperor’s name—the Emperor hardly used it, after he took over, and the Rebellion hadn’t either—hadn’t liked the reminder that someone most of them had trusted was the one who’d toppled the Republic, Leia had eventually told him.

(He’d get back to Leia eventually. He could worry about that later, when Mara didn’t need him.)

Mara had plenty of memories of Darth Sidious, up close and personal.

So up close and personal he’d been in her head. And she’d known that, and been fine with it—until she’d realized he’d also been controlling her, not just talking to her.

Jedi were usually psychically entangled with the people they were close to, but Mara had always an exception to that. Luke was the only one she'd really let into her head so far, though he thought Jaina might be another one, if Mara indeed took her on as a Padawan…

But Mara hated having people in her head.

Especially people whom she’d first known as Sith Lords.

“C’mon, you know you’ll be amused if we _do_ traumatize my father.”

“You mean more than we already have, Farmboy.”

“I mean in a much more harmless way then we already have.”

Mara said nothing for a moment, just stared out into hyperspace. Then she turned to face him. “You really think you can be _that_ distracting?” A smirk played at the corner of her mouth.

Luke’s grin widened. “I know I can.”

\--

“My question,” Adi Gallia broke in, “is how exactly Master Kenobi managed to escape the most secure, Force-proofed cell in the entire Temple. How exactly did this mysterious hole in the ceiling appear, and why did we not detect it?”

Mace sighed. “We don’t have any cameras pointed at the ceiling. As for how…Master Drallig’s investigation shows that the hole was made by a lightsaber coming down from the room above—or, more precisely, the interstructural crawlspace.”

“So it’s someone with an intimate knowledge of the Temple,” Adi summarized.

“This only increases the evidence against Skywalker,” Eeth Koth stated.

“Or perhaps,” Ki-Adi mused, “it’s evidence against Tano. She was in contact with Master Kenobi far more often than Skywalker was, after Kenobi’s possession, and would be far more susceptible to the influence of the Sith, given her age.”

“Padawan Tano was in such frequent contact with Kenobi because we had her and Knight Skywalker taking point on the research,” Plo Koon stated in an unusual retreat into formality. An understandable one, though—he would want to look as impartial as possible, given his known attachment to Tano.

“And why wasn’t Knight Skywalker there more often?” Ki-Adi Mundi asked. “ _He_ was the one in charge of research, not his Padawan.”

Looks were exchanged. “Well, he’s not exactly bookish, is he?” Kit Fisto volunteered, somewhat wryly.

“Regardless,” Adi Gallia said, “this escape seems to suggest that at least one of our key assumptions about the situation was wrong: that the cell did _not_ suppress the entity controlling Master Kenobi, and indeed that it controlled him so completely he was unable to warn us.”

“And furthermore,” Mace said, grimacing, “that it must have had access to Obi-Wan’s knowledge and memories, in order to deceive us all so completely.”

A heavy silence.

“Well thank the Force we decided not to let him keep doing his paperwork,” Kit said, tone half-light and half-strangled. “Who knows what would have happened to the Third Systems Army.”

Due to his past and unfortunately long experience with the waging of war, Obi-Wan had been placed in direct control of more of the GAR than any other Councilor. His area of jurisdiction was enormous, and although he spent the bulk of his time personally commanding the 212th, his direction of the war effort far exceeded his presence in the field.

Covering for him for one week had been hard enough. So hard the Council had seriously considered letting him continue his command from his cell, in spite of the security risks.

Mace swallowed. “Master Koth. Go over all of Master Kenobi’s orders in between the time of the Sith’s capture and the entity revealing itself. If there is _anything_ unusual, if there’s the slightest possibility it was manipulating the war effort, we need to know.”

“Understood. Are we going to redeploy his troops?”

“Have to, we will,” Yoda answered. “Stretched thin, we already are. Afford the losses of his troops and Skywalker’s battalion, we cannot.”

“We’ll split them amongst the rest of the Council,” Mace said. Because they weren’t already overextended enough. A quarter of the Council hadn’t even fought in a war before Geonosis—only mediated their resolutions. The loss of Obi-Wan’s experience was an added and painful blow to an already painful situation.

“In the meantime,” Ki-Adi said, something peculiar in his voice, “I think there’s another question we need to address. Or rather, re-address. We debated, in the beginning, if the Darkness of the Sith entity controlling Master Kenobi could have corrupted him. And I think we need to revisit the question.”

“You think he has been influenced to Fall?” Plo Koon asked. One of his eye-filters tilted up slightly in a manner that would have been, in other circumstances, comical.

But Mace flashed on his last conversation with Vexion. Her long and horrifying explanation of what, exactly, it meant to have the undivided attention of a Sith for days. What it meant for a Sith to have total access to a Jedi’s mind.

“Vexion told me that Kenobi hadn’t Fallen, when I implied that he had. But she also made a very strong case for how quickly a Sith can force a Jedi to Fall. And she could easily have been trying to ward off our suspicions.”

Yoda’s ears had drooped lower than they’d been since the entity had been exposed.

 _Had exposed itself_ : a chilling reminder of how much they lacked control over the situation. How in the dark they were, so to speak.

“Take seriously the possibility that Master Kenobi has Fallen, we must. Hope that he hasn’t, we will. But prepared for the worst, we must be.”

 _The worst_ had expanded to cover a lot of territory, the past few weeks.

“And those sent out in search of him,” Mace said, “will need to keep that in mind.”

\--

“Just for the record,” Bail said, walking with Padmé down the halls of the Senate, “this is a terrible idea.”

Padmé snorted. “The terrible idea would be us making a record.”

Bail rolled his eyes. It was, Padmé thought, a rather impressive mixture of fondness and tension.

 _We’re going to get caught_ , Bail did not say, because he wasn’t stupid enough to say something that obvious in the halls of the Senate. “Are you sure he’ll have time to see you?” he asked instead.

Asked, not whispered, because that would be more conspicuous than anything.

Well, almost anything. Renting out a speeder to fly outside the Senate dome with a holobanner accusing the Supreme Chancellor of treason might surpass it.

“His public schedule says that his last meeting of the day ends shortly. It’ll take long enough that we’ll have to wait, but not so little time that it’s unreasonable to come this early. We will, of course, sit in the reception area as usual, and then he will offer to take tea with me, as he often does when we have the time. _Home planet solidarity_ , he says.”

Bail let out an extremely long sigh, though Padmé could only tell by hearing it—not a hint appeared on his face. “And you’re sure the results of your procurement are up to par?”

Padmé turned her head to look at him, eyebrows raised. “Of course. Wouldn’t yours be?”

“Alderaan is a peaceful world.”

“And so is Naboo. That doesn’t mean we never take any kind of _measures_.”

“I suppose I should have expected that, given that you have three different decoys.”

Padmé smirked, just for show. “Imagine how many I had when I was still the queen.”

\--

“So,” Mace said, voice completely dry, “who wants to tell the Chancellor?”

It was a deeply rhetorical question.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished this update instead of sleeping. Although it's not technically Saturday, when I said I'd get this out, it is still Saturday in the sense that I haven't gone to bed yet, so I hope that counts for something.
> 
> And now we get into more of the way too fucking many characters I have to juggle in this fic!
> 
> Warnings for discussion of gore (mild) and discussion of brainwashing (not mild). Also discussion of murder but there's gonna be a lot of that in this fic heads up. See end notes for details.
> 
> Thanks as always to SapphiraBlue for the beta/cheerleading! And please comment--your comments really do inspire me to write faster, which I need at this point, as Part 1 of this fic has more left to be written than I realized!

No one on the strike team—search and rescue team, _optimistically_ —looked happy to be there.

Siri Tachi certainly wasn’t. And, she knew through long exposure, Quinlan Vos _definitely_ wasn’t, behind his grimly determined expression.

And Master Ki-Adi Mundi was seldom happy about anything.

They didn’t make up a bad tracking team, though—that much Siri could admit. Quinlan, of course, had the exceptionally rare Force power of psychometry, which allowed him to see visions of the past when he touched things or people. And Siri was one of the few in the Temple who knew—by dint of her long acquaintance with Quinlan—that he was a Shadow, a Jedi spy. One who worked more closely with CorSec and other law enforcement groups than almost anyone.

And like her, he was a very close friend of Obi-Wan. For that matter, he was also like her in having previously been more than friends with Obi-Wan, although his relationship with Obi-Wan had been casual and based mostly in their friendship, rather than romance.

And Siri had put her decidedly romantic feelings behind her long ago. She would always care about Obi-Wan, yes, and he remained one of her dearest friends. But they were both Jedi. Romantic relationships could not be pursued.

If there was one thing Siri Tachi knew and believed in, it was her duty.

She might not have Quinlan’s psychometry skills, but she also had an extensive history in investigative, undercover missions to her name.

And, of course, they both knew Obi-Wan well, and normally that would have been a mission asset, giving them an increased ability to anticipate his choices.

Except, of course, that in this case, Obi-Wan wasn’t the one making the choices.

“You’ll rendezvous with Master Koon en route,” Master Windu was saying, “and pick up the trail from there. The initial hyperspace trajectory suggests they are heading toward Galactic North, but nothing beyond that. Master Vos, we’re relying on your psychometry and tracking skills to give us a better indication of where they might be headed.”

Nothing about the situation was ideal, but if there had to be a tracking mission, there was no one Siri would rather have running it.

“Sure thing,” Quinlan acknowledged with a nod, though one tighter than his usual, casual mannerisms.

“In the meantime, Master Tachi, you’re in charge of putting out BOLOs and tracking them through official channels, while Master Vos reaches out to his underworld contacts. Master Mundi will work to research Sith techniques, artifacts, and history as much as possible, as well as organize a military detail on Krant, the planet they initially appeared on.”

Master Mundi nodded, and Siri very privately wondered at the fact that he could lift a head over two feet tall. Master Mundi’s expression didn’t waver at all. Unlike the two of them—and even Master Koon, who was friends with Obi-Wan and had been close with Master Jinn—Master Mundi had no relationship to Obi-Wan, aside from as co-Councilors.

And while the members of the Jedi Council might generally be expected to have some nice fellow-feeling for each other, Siri doubted Master Mundi did. The Cerean was well known as one of the most conservative, stern, and even reactionary members of the Council. Though Siri certainly wouldn’t use the word _reactionary_ where most people could hear it, the word being obviously loaded when applied to a Jedi.

Master Windu spoke again: “You leave tonight at the absolute latest. We cannot afford to waste any extra time.”

“Understood, Master Windu,” Siri answered, nodding crisply.

“And if at all possible,” Master Windu continued, “the three of you are under orders to bring Master Kenobi, Knight Skywalker, and Padawan Tano in alive. Indeed, in addition to your dedication and skills navigating extralegal situations, Master Tachi and Master Vos, you two have been chosen because of your knowledge of Obi-Wan Kenobi, and your investment in his continued survival. We do _not_ want to lose him. But do not take any irrational risks, do not let sentiment unduly influence you, and do not sacrifice yourselves unless _absolutely necessary_.”

It might have sounded cold, to an outsider, but from the Jedi Council, that was a significant amount of investment in Obi-Wan’s continued survival. Siri would take it, and ignore the possible insult to her dedication.

She had long known that sentiment, and sentiment toward Obi-Wan in particular, could never get in the way of her duty.

…Maybe Master Windu had been warning Quinlan.

“However,” Master Mundi said, “for reasons I assume your briefings have made clear to you, Darth Vexion and Luke Skywalker are to be considered fully expendable.”

\--

Quinlan pointedly didn’t look up from pulling off his gloves as he spoke: “You know, you don’t need to be here.”

“How much of what we have, in this life, do we actually need?” Siri asked airily from where she leaned against the interrogation room wall.

Quinlan snorted. “Seriously, though, don’t you have your own shit to do?”

“Yes. Which is why I brought my datapad. I’m just waiting for people to get back to me at this point, anyway—so why shouldn’t I hang out with you?” Her grin edged into a smirk. “You know, supervise?”

Quinlan rolled his eyes. Above him, the ceiling of the interrogation room was dented, where Master Ti had slammed Luke Skywalker into it. “I made Master before you did, Tachi.”

“Substance over speed,” Siri returned.

 _Age before beauty_ , Quinlan briefly considered saying—but after the number of people who’d refused to take Siri seriously based on her gender and physical appearance, it would be too close to an actual barb, even without the fact that she was generally an enormous tomboy. “Little do you know, that _still_ puts me on top.”

It was apparently Siri’s turn to snort. “Quinlan,” she drawled, “stop talking and start touching.”

Quinlan’s laugh was forced out of him in spite of everything. “Yeah, yeah.” Then he jumped up on the metal table in the middle of the interrogation room, reaching up to touch the ceiling.

The table and chairs, after all, would have dozens of psychometric impressions, all emotionally strong, from the dozens of interrogations with Vexion, Skywalker, the bounty hunter, and the Inquisitor, not to mention whoever had been held in the cells before them.

Quinlan braced himself as his fingers made contact—

_Luke Skywalker, pinned to the ceiling by Shaak Ti. Obi-Wan on the floor, unconscious. Quinlan pushed down his own wave of anger—he had to listen, couldn’t sense past emotions if he was caught up in his own._

_“I surrender!” Luke Skywalker called. He didn’t spread out his arms to gesture it because Master Ti had them pinned to his sides._

_Determination. Muddled triumph, faint relief._

_No malice._

_And strong, strong regret, shame that ached and sadness that hollowed to the point of physical pain._

_Reasonable enough, when Luke Skywalker had been caught. But something was—off. There was still no anger, and Luke’s desperation was waning, not increasing._

_“Yes,” Master Ti said, her lekku tense and her face implacable. “I think you do.”_

Quinlan hopped down off the table.

“Anything interesting?” Siri asked, staring down at her datapad.

“Maybe,” Quinlan replied absently, walking over to the chair. She hadn’t expected a real answer anyway—she knew perfectly well he’d say something when he found something definite, and not before. But some chatter helped them both.

Then his hand touched the back of the chair, and—

_“Do…you want to hear about your mother?” Anakin asked, tense and awkward._

_In Luke, there was sharp anticipation and sheer, untainted unhappiness. “Definitely,” Luke said, a big and genuine smile across his face._

_Tentatively, Anakin started to smile back. “She’s amazing. I don’t know how much you know about her…”_

_Luke shrugged, smile and happiness fainter. “Some. Her name, what records survived the Empire.”_

_Anakin grimaced, emotions flashing sour before he forced them gone. “Right. Well, Padmé’s amazing. And in my totally unbiased opinion, she’s the best senator in the whole damn Republic.”_

“Holy _fucking_ shit.”

“Quinlan?” Siri asked, alarmed.

“That little, _lying_ shithead.”

“ _Who_?”

Quinlan laughed in sheer fucking exasperation. “You remember how Anakin said he had no idea who Luke’s mother was, because he definitely hadn’t broken the Code yet?”

Siri straightened. “You’re kidding. No, no, of course you’re not kidding. It—it’s not another Jedi, right?” They both knew it was unlikely; Anakin wasn’t exactly drowning in friends at the Temple. But everything had been so messed up lately, Quinlan could see why she had asked.

“No, Quinlan said, grimacing. “Almost as bad: it’s a senator.”

Siri snapped her fingers. “It’s that one he’s always assigned to, isn’t it? It’s Amidala.”

\--

“Oh, what’re you making?” The voice came from behind Obi-Wan, in the same direction as the whoosh of the door to the ship’s mess. He’d heard it, of course, but he’d internally prayed that whoever came through wouldn’t want to interact with him.

No such luck, apparently.

“Just some tea,” Obi-Wan said, busying himself with its preparation rather than turning around to face Luke.

Luke, although allegedly a wise and venerable Jedi Master, failed to take a hint. “Cool. Mind if I get in there and see if the ship has any hot chocolate?”

“Not at all,” Obi-Wan said, moving closer to the ship’s small, two-burner stove. Where he was boiling water for his tea in a _pot_ , like a barbarian.

If the ship didn’t have a decent kettle, it was exceedingly that it would have _hot chocolate_. Especially in the middle of a war. Obi-Wan had been almost surprised to find tea at all, even if it wasn’t exactly his favorite sapir. But still, Obi-Wan let Luke rustle about.

It would give Luke something to do, he hoped. That way…well. That way he could enjoy some peace and quiet, externally if not yet quiet internally.

It had been a stressful few weeks.

Luke Skywalker, to Obi-Wan’s gratitude, did search for—and fail to find, judging by his mournful huffs—hot chocolate in silence. Obi-Wan took the time to pour his tea—quite _appropriately_ using the Force to keep the pot from spilling boiling water all over the floor—and over to the cramped table into the corner, sliding into its booth.

Sadly, it had been long before the Clone War that Obi-Wan had gained his preference for putting his back to a wall.

A minute or two later, Luke pulled out the chair across from Obi-Wan and sat down. He also had tea, Obi-Wan noted, though he hadn’t even bothered to reheat the water Obi-Wan had left in the pot before pouring.

“So,” Luke started, warm despite it all. Somehow Luke managed to not make the emotion look awkward, and yet somehow Obi-Wan felt awkward nonetheless. “How’s the tea?”

 _Better when you use hot water_ , Obi-Wan didn’t say. That would have been petty.

It wasn’t that he was generally a petty person. In fact, as a Jedi Master and even somehow a Jedi Councilor, Obi-Wan prided himself on the opposite. It was just that, well…

“Serviceable, considering the brand,” Obi-Wan said instead.

It was just that he wanted to enjoy his substandard tea in peace.

“Yeah,” Luke drawled, smiling. His smile was bright, normal, and showed no signs of evil or malice whatsoever. “Gotta love those food requisitions.”

“Indeed.”

They sat for a few minutes in what was almost a comfortable silence.

“If you’ll excuse me for being direct,” Luke said after a minute, “I think I make you uncomfortable, and I wanted to know if there was anything I could do about that.”

Obi-Wan set down his mug.

“I apologize for anything that I might have done that gave you that impression—”

Luke snorted, and Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry. It’s just, you didn’t need to do anything to give me that impression. I was around for the past few weeks too, you know. It’d be shocking if you weren’t uncomfortable. And I felt how you tensed up when I hugged you and, by proxy, Old Ben.”

“Yes, well.” When put like that…Obi-Wan could acknowledge it made his attempts at denial look rather…obvious. “I am working on it, and I do want you to know that. But you also threatened to, what was it, set fire to your own Jedi Temple and douse the flames with the blood of your students?”

Luke flushed. “Yeah, that was…not my best moment. Also, I suppose if I really wanted it to burn down, I wouldn’t douse the flames, but yeah. Imagery.” He sighed and looked down at his own tea. “I’m not sorry that I somehow managed to be a convincing actor, because I needed to do that in order to save the lives of thirty children, ones under my care. Most of them my students. But I am sorry for what I had to do in order to _be_ convincing, and for the fact that it hurt you and Father.”

It was deeply odd to hear someone referring to Anakin as _Father_ , much less someone Obi-Wan’s age.

“For what it’s worth,” Obi-Wan said slowly, “I am sorry for what you had to do as well. It cannot have been pleasant.”

Far from it, Obi-Wan thought. If he’d had to pretend to be a Sith, had to pretend that someone he cared for so deeply had tortured and broken him, had to pretend to be filled with so much hatred and anger and will to violence, much less to past versions of people he knew and respect…

“Thanks,” Luke said, and there was that smile again. Every time it looked warm and genuine, Obi-Wan was a bit surprised. The events of the past cycle couldn’t so quickly erase the past few weeks.

He would never have admitted it to another sentient, but he’d been terribly afraid, even before his counterpart had shown himself and gotten Obi-Wan thrown in a cell. Down under all his layers of Jedi serenity and, when that failed, denial. Afraid of what Luke represented, as a Fallen Jedi, as someone bearing news of the Order’s doom. And of what Luke had represented for Anakin.

“I can’t say that I have moved past what happened, nor what interactions passed between us, much as I wish I could flip a switch and be done,” Obi-Wan said. The next item on his agenda was meditating. For many, many hours. “But I would like to know the man you truly are, if you’re willing to take the time.”

Luke’s smile widened. “Of course I am.”

Yes, of course—considering Luke’s bond with Obi-Wan’s future self—

“And I do want to know _you_ , not just Old Ben,” Luke said, and Obi-Wan reflexively checked his shields. But the were intact. Either Luke genuinely deserved some of his wise and venerable reputation, or Obi-Wan’s ability to mask his emotions had sharply declined. “It’s important to me that you know that.”

The corner of Obi-Wan’s lips tugged upward. “To a new start?” he asked, raising his depressingly utilitarian mug.

“To a new start,” Luke returned.

\--

“Master Windu,” Darth Sidious said, his kindly, concerned, Jedi-sympathetic, Palpatine façade firmly in place. “What is this about? I hope nothing has happened?”

Windu looked like he had _quite_ the headache, around the edges of his Jedi serenity. It was a sight Sidious deeply enjoyed.

“I’m afraid something has come up,” Windu said, “something that will have a decided impact on the war effort.” One that would be bad for the Jedi, from his tone—perfect. “As it is decidedly a Jedi matter, we had planned to handle it internally. However, complications occurred, and I am here to brief you on the situation.”

That could mean a great number of things, Sidious knew, especially given Windu’s talent for equivocation. Perhaps it would even involve an explanation for Anakin’s unusual non-responsiveness, the past two weeks.

“I see,” he replied, affecting a look of serious concern. “And what exactly _is_ this ‘Jedi business’?”

Windu’s expression didn’t even flicker, and neither did his Force presence, shielded even more tightly than usual. “Chancellor, tell me: what do you know of the Sith?”

 _Well, well, this could be quite promising_. “Some. I do know my history—the rise of the Sith Empire and the Mandalorian Wars, at least in the basics. I know they’re the historical enemies of the Jedi. And I know the Council has speculated that Count Dooku might be a Sith, although I was never terribly clear on why, considering that the Sith are a thousand years dead.”

“Would that that were the case,” Windu replied stoically. “Aside from the Sith’s continued existence, though, your information is basically correct, if an oversimplification.”

If only Windu knew. Sidious stifled the urge to laugh through long practice.

“As I said, I thought Count Dooku’s identity as a Sith was still a matter of speculation?”

“It has not been a matter of speculation since the Battle of Geonosis, for reasons I won’t get into,” Windu replied. The Force lightning, no doubt. “However, we now have further proof in the existence of several obvious and admitted Sith.”

 _Several_ Sith? Several _admitted_ Sith? Sidious let his startlement show on his face, though he kept out the edge of cutting anger. Was someone else claiming to represent his Order?

“Well this is enormous news!” Sidious cried. “Are they involved with the Separatist cause, then?” If they had managed without garnering his notice, that might suggest these supposed Sith could be something actually approaching a threat, rather than the mere charlatans he assumed.

But only approaching a threat, because the idea that they might actually be one was laughable.

Windu paused ever-so-slightly—if he’d been talking to anyone less of a master at reading people, it might have gone unnoticed. “They are opposed to both the Republic and the Jedi. But as to whether they are specifically aligned with the Separatist cause, the evidence is inconclusive.”

Sidious sighed, let his gaze drop to the surface of his desk. “Well, let us both hope that we have not found ourselves with more enemies.” His tone was careful, treating Windu, ever so subtly, as drawn into his confidence; he needed to get Windu to explain as much as possible. Difficult, with the man’s typical reticence.

“Indeed.”

“But you said the situation had become more complicated,” Sidious slowly drawled, as if puzzling out the situation, “so what has happened that you decided to inform me? And how long have you been…handling this matter internally?”

Once again, Windu’s face did not shift, although Sidious might have felt a hint of disquiet flicker through his shields. “Their existence first came to our attention two weeks ago.”

Two weeks ago? That was only a few days before he had first noticed Anakin’s non-responsiveness. _How… interesting_.

“Their existence came to our attention when we encountered, defeated, and captured three Sith warriors on the Outer Rim planet of Krant.”

Sidious’s racing thoughts, for the first time in a very long term, came to a screeching halt.

“How can this be?” It was, for once, an honest question.

“We’re not sure.” That rang with truth in the Force, although also…something hidden. Something missing or undisclosed. “We found them in the ruins of an old Sith Temple, and they claimed to be Sith quite directly. Out of the three, the Sith Master goes by the title of Darth Vexion. One of the other Sith is her apprentice; the other is merely affiliated with her. We did not mention anything because we had no proof of their ties to the Separatist cause, and did not want to complicate the narrative of our involvement in the war effort.”

“But something changed.” A _lot_ of things had changed, or would have to—Sidious was almost agog at how this could have happened. The Line of Bane— _Sidious’s own line_ —had been the only Sith in existence for a thousand years. Bane’s Rule of Two had long reigned supreme. Hiding from the Jedi was one thing, so easy a half-trained child could manage it, but for other Sith—perhaps even an entire _order_ of Sith, ones who didn’t even seem to acknowledge the Rule of Two—to hide from his lineage, the _true_ lineage the Sith, for a millennium…it seemed impossible. Confounding.

Infuriating.

He could not brook any interference with his plans, not when his ultimate triumph was so close, and the thousand-year vengeance of his Order.

“Unfortunately,” Windu responded, after a long moment, “these Sith have managed to abduct Anakin Skywalker, Ahsoka Tano, and Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“ _What?_ ” Sidious demanded, his anger seeping through his façade. “ _How_ did this happen and _why_ did you not inform me _sooner_?”

Windu’s eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly. “The escape and abduction occurred at 11:30 p.m. last night, and we needed information before we tried to brief you. I am your first appointment of the day. If you want me to apologize for not waking you up in the middle of the night, I can, but I was in meetings regarding the matter until just before I came to see you. We have already confirmed they have left Coruscant and made it into hyperspace—and since there were no immediate actions to take, the Council wanted to get as much information as we could before briefing you.”

Sidious very pointedly did not grind his teeth. “Very well. You can start by briefing me on how exactly three Sith escaped your Order and forced two of your most powerful Jedi along with them.”

It was a slight risk, letting that much of his irritation show—but not much of one, given the situation and its probable impact on the war. And especially given his close relationship to Anakin.

This ridiculous abduction had better not mess up his plans for Anakin.

…Perhaps he could still take advantage of it, though. Although Anakin’s capture suggested an unfortunate weakness in his future apprentice, Sidious had always known that the Dark Side was what made one truly strong. And perhaps being held captive by Sith, exposed to their Darkness and the despair induced by his own helplessness, would bring Anakin close to the brink. Even more so if he was forced to watch his precious Master and Padawan being tortured.

But Sidious’s ability to take advantage of the situation was contingent on Anakin’s freedom. Although, usefully, not on Kenobi or Tano’s.

“We’re still working to determine the logistics of their escape,” Windu equivocated. “But…” Force, the man almost looked like he was pulling out his own teeth as he talked. It was delightful. “You should know that the three Sith who escaped were not the same three Sith whom we initially captured.”

“…Oh?” There were _more_ of these absurd pretender-Sith?

“When Darth Vexion and her Apprentice escaped, they left behind their third compatriot, who was addressed only as ‘Inquisitor.’” Interesting. The Sith had had Inquisitors thousands of years ago, but Darth Bane had made the position obviously defunct. The existence of such a title did indeed suggest the reemergence of a formalized Sith Order. Somehow.

“And this fourth Sith, then? Did he come to break the others out?”

“In a way.” Windu frowned. “The fourth Sith is more difficult to explain without the context of ancient Sith practices.”

Sidious raised a very curious eyebrow. “Oh? Do enlighten me.”

“The ancient Sith had ways of…perverting the Force that were unknown to the Jedi. Creating artificial constructs in the Force. Rewriting sentient minds entirely. Preserving their spirits after their deaths, and managing to tie their souls to the physical world.”

Jedi and their pathetic, limited notions of the Force. “Are you saying this fourth Sith was a _ghost_? Or a…a construct? But Master Windu, _how_ could a ghost or artificial Force construct affect the physical world, let alone invade the Jedi Temple?”

Windu looked like he’d bitten a lemon. Sidious did not smirk. “Our information on the Sith is unfortunately scant. Especially ancient Sith esoterica. But so far as we can tell, following an attack by Vexion’s apprentice, some sort of malicious Sith entity was able to possess and take over the body of Master Kenobi.”

Sidious made a point of making sure he could never, ever be surprised. And yet every word coming out of Windu’s mouth was borderline astonishing. A hidden Sith Order was one thing, but ancient Sith spirits? It was a Force ghost, almost certainly—Sidious had records of “ancient Sith esoterica” far more complete than the Jedi did, and from what he knew, only an actual Sith spirit could manage such autonomy, such initiative. Such power, to invade and conquer the mind of a Jedi Councilor.

“That is deeply disturbing,” Sidious said, only half his mind on his words as he began to calculate. Kenobi’s capture and possible subversion would be a harsh blow to the GAR, especially if the Sith had access to his memories and knowledge of Republic intel and forces. Nothing Sidious himself couldn’t access on his own end, of course…but the possible subversion of a Jedi Councilor by the Sith. Now _that_ could be promising, if Sidious played his cards right.

An ancient Sith spirit, one from the heyday of the Sith, would know secrets lost to the annals of history. Secrets left out of even Sidious’s records. And his rescue of the living Sith suggested that he was in allegiance to them.

Sith always swore allegiance to the strongest.

Sidious, the triumph of a thousand years of the Line of Bane, would be unquestionably stronger than these mere pretenders, who had spent a millennium hiding so thoroughly that he had never gotten the slightest hint of their influence on galactic events.

And a Force ghost, once loyal, would never have any reason to try to overthrow him. No ability to truly seize power, being already dead.

All that extra power and knowledge, a ghostly spy, and all of it in the form of the trapped Obi-Wan Kenobi—whose possession by the Sith, Anakin was probably being forced to watch at that very moment.

Anakin Skywalker had been forced to watch his own Sith-possessed Master abduct him and his Padawan.

Sidious made fully sure any sign of smugness was suppressed as he leaned forward, the picture of innocent concern, and said, “Master Windu, I think you had better give me that briefing. In _full_ detail.”

\--

“And how is Breha?” Padmé asked. “I know she’s been working on expanding Alderaan’s capacity to take in refugees?” She was careful not to move her eyes from his face even as she watched the entrance to the Chancellor’s office in her periphery.

“Indeed,” Bail said, and his face lit up in spite of his disapproval of her plan—as it always did when discussing his wife. “We’re constructing permanent housing as fast as possible, as well as refugee shelters—Breha already had to fire and imprison one contractor for attempting to build using cheap, dangerous materials and pocket the rest of the funding.”

“Appalling,” Padmé said, shaking her head. “Dangerous how?”

“They weren’t insulating the buildings.”

“...Most parts of Alderaan are buried in snow for over half of the planetary year, if I recall.”

And there—two senators were headed into the Chancellor’s office. She adjusted her broach, which was the signal.

“You recall correctly,” Bail said with a grim smile. “But thankfully, internal auditing caught it before the costs and time to remedy the problem could increase. The perpetrators are in prison, and no refugees will die of exposure in what should be a safe harbor.”

“Well at least something in this Galaxy is going well today,” Padmé said, returning his smile much less grimly.

“Indeed. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Padmé, I have to get back to work. Best of luck with your endeavors.”

“Likewise,” she replied.

Bail nodded and walked off, and Padmé proceeded into the outer office of the chancellor’s chambers.

Just as they had planned, the senators were still talking to the chancellor’s assistant, Iman Karjatis, posturing aggressively about their need to have the absolute next meeting slot possible, no matter what had to be canceled, their meeting was more important than anything else in the Galaxy, and certainly on the chancellor’s agenda—

Padmé nodded at the unimpressed secretary—she knew the chancellor’s assistant relatively well, given her close relationship with the chancellor and his mentorship of her.

His using her, more like.

But she shouldn’t think about that, shouldn’t think about what she knew, shouldn’t put off any anger that Palpatine might sense.

Instead she did what she usually did, when she was in line to talk to Karjatis, and took a seat on the opulent bench against the rear wall of the office. She was the only other senator there, but that wasn’t too unusual, since Karjatis had increasingly changed policies to make it more and more difficult to gain access to Palpatine. Allegedly in the name of increasing efficiency, as the Chancellor was forced the redirect time to the war effort.

Careful not to draw attention, and knowing she had to finish before the other senators did, Padmé reached to the back of her head and carefully withdrew one of the pins keeping her hair in its elaborate updo. The pins toward the front were bejewelled in the typical style of Naboo court dress, sparkling and attention-grabbing, but they gradually gave way to the plain, matte, dark brown pins at the nape of her neck.

The outfits that Padmé wore as a senator were significantly less elaborate than those she’d worn as queen, but they served much the same purpose: distraction and concealment.

All of the elaborate haircuts and dazzling pins hid the handful that served another purpose: In this case, recording devices.

The less elaborate pins were designed to be unnoticed, and to resemble styles common throughout the Galaxy. And of course, it helped if no one associated so pedestrian a hair ornament with the senator of Naboo.

With long practice, none of Padmé’s hair moved as she drew out the pin. Keeping her movements natural, she shifted her weight, using the motion to lean forward, bring her arm down and behind the folds of her dress—and jab the pin into the underside of the upholstered bench.

Listening device planted.

Padmé remained seated as the senators left—planting more than one wasn’t worth the increased risk of discovery.

Then she calmly, in a completely normal tone of voice and as normal of an emotional state as she could manage, told Karjatis that she’d love to take tea with the chancellor that evening, if he was free—it had been too long…

Palpatine’s schedule, Karjatis said, was open enough to have a relaxing tea with an old friend. Say, 10pm, local time.

Padmé smiled, nodded, and took her leave.

After all, planting two bugs in the outer office but wasn’t worth the risk. But planting one in Palpatine’s personal office?

That was.

\--

“Disappointing, this news of Knight Skywalker and Senator Amidala’s relationship is, but let it slow your mission, you cannot.”

“But you’re going to send _someone_ to question Senator Amidala, right?” Siri asked, making sure her voice was well within the bounds of decorum. “We’re forbidden from holding any direct influence over Senate affairs. With the political climate right now, we need to either have this not get out, or make sure our response is above reproach.”

Master Windu signed. “Above reproach would be to declare their relationship immediately and launch an investigation. Which, obviously, we cannot afford to do. We’ll have to split the difference.”

“CYA,” Quinlan said, nodding.

“Don’t be vulgar,” Master Mundi scowled, though Master Windu just rolled his eyes, and Siri thought Master Yoda might have been smirking.

“But Master Mundi,” Quinlan protested, face the picture of innocence, “I used the acronym! It’s not like I _said_ ‘ass.’”

Master Mundi turned back to Masters Koon and Yoda. Sharply. “I’m not so sure that this is irrelevant to the investigation,” he said. “If Skywalker is _attached_ , I think we need to revisit the possibility that he’s collaborating with the Sith, or soon will be. He’s clearly already on the path to the Dark Side.”

Siri was faintly impressed that neither she nor Quinlan said something ill-advised. Sure, neither of them were super close to Anakin, but he’d been the Padawan of one of their closest friends. Of course they felt a bit protective.

Besides, Siri had struggled with attachment in her time. Most Jedi had, though it was rarely talked about, and always in dark rooms and hushed tones. There was a difference between having feelings for someone and Falling to the Dark Side.

Of course, there was also a difference between setting aside those feelings, as a Jedi must, and starting a serious, long-term, clandestine relationship. With a senator.

“Even if that’s the case,” Master Koon said, “it’s unlikely that Senator Amidala will know anything about any plans that Skywalker may or may not have made.”

Master Yoda nodded. “Sent to investigate, someone will be. But be any of you, it will not. Continue your investigations, you must, before tomorrow at dawn, you leave.”

It was Quinlan who nodded first. “Yes, Master,” he said, as he turned back toward the interrogation rooms. Siri gave a slight bow and followed.

\--

Quinlan’s next target was the edge of the table. It was far enough from the restraints that there might not be anything, but he should be thorough, move in slowly—

But his first vision of a moment where Master Windu had switched table sides. He couldn't feel any of Vexion's emotions, but then he wouldn't have been able to anyway, because the Force-suppressant binders kept her from leaving any impressions in the Force that his psychometry could pick up on.

_Vexion spoke, her voice soft, menacing. “Have you ever had the personal attention of a Sith, Master Windu? Been their sole, constant focus for days, no respite, not even in your nightmares? I never even let him fall unconscious, so he could never have peace.”_

_She leaned forward, pressing her hands into the hard metal of the table, the biting edges of her cuffs. “I drugged him until he was hallucinating, tortured him until he was in agony, cut him off from the Force, and shoved pure Darkness through him until it was all he knew, until he couldn’t have touched the Light even if he’d been freed.”_

_Horror, from Master Windu. Horror and the kind of bone-deep fear only felt for someone close._

_“I breached his shields and ravaged his mind, invaded all his dreams, preyed on all his fears, warped all his hopes. For days and days I twisted his mind around, until Light was Dark, good was evil, pain was bliss. I put him under compulsion after compulsion until he was too broken to resist. I left him no sanctuary but that which I granted, until he came to worship my mercy, to worship me._

_“And then,” Mara said, smirk consuming her face, “he was mine.”_

_Master Windu was silent for a long moment before he spoke. “Then I pity him.” And Master Windu did feel pity, and sadness. But mostly horror and acrid loss._

The room flashed back to normal.

Quinlan leaned back against the table, this time not letting a single hint of bare skin touch it.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he said feelingly.

Siri looked up in obvious concern. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am. Sith are just, y’know. Fucking intense.”

He was mostly okay. Better than Mace had been, anyway. After all, he wasn’t the one with a Padawan that had Fallen to the Dark Side, shoved a lightsaber through his gut, and ended up comatose.

“What happened?”

Quinlan closed his eyes.

Vexion smirked behind them.

But Siri needed to know.

And at least when everything was done, she’d find killing Vexion just as cathartic as he would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CYA is an acronym for Cover Your Ass. As in, make sure you're covered if something goes wrong, or if you get caught actually doing sketchy things.
> 
> For those not familiar with the EU, hot chocolate is canonically Luke's favorite drink ;)
> 
> Be like Padme, Bail, and Breha--work to help refugees who are being held in appalling conditions (in the case of the US, concentration camps). Please consider donating to RAICES or posting bond for an immigrant in order to help alleviate this horrifying humanitarian crisis. Eight children have already died due to neglect and exposure in ICE custody.
> 
> Warnings:  
> Discussion of gore: Obi-Wan references the fact that Luke, while pretending to be evil, said some things about how he wanted to murder his students.  
> Discussion of brainwashing: Quinlan Vos has a vision of Mara's conversation with Windu in Under the Cover of Darkness, where she gave a deliberately malicious and intense description of how she supposedly forced Luke to Fall. Her lines are an exact quote from the last fic--no new material.  
> Discussion of murder: The Council basically orders the strike team to kill people if necessary.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SEE TAGS FOR UPDATED WARNINGS
> 
> So good news! I finally figured out the rest of the plot of this fic! Hopefully that means that after Part 1 finishes, the rest will come faster. (There will be 3 or 4 parts, depending on how I divide it up.) But now that I know where the rest of the fic is going, there are updated warnings, mostly thanks to Sidious. In particular the mind control and power dynamics are no longer all going to be consensual/fake. There will also be significant suicidal ideation later on. I'll warn for things on specific chapters, but wanted to flag up front that things will eventually get heavier. Take care of yourselves.
> 
> No chapter-specific warnings for this one, I don't think. :)
> 
> And also, apologies for being late! The good news is that I have the rest of Part 1 completely written, so you can count on weekly updates for the three chapters after this. Then there will be a hiatus while I actually get Part 2 written. And thanks to SapphiraBlue for being an excellent beta/cheerleader.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Senator Amidala, thank you for making time to meet with me, especially so last minute.”

Padmé widened her smile just a hair. It wasn’t as if she had much of a choice—when a member of the Jedi Council wanted to meet with you, as soon as possible, you made it happen.

“Of course, Master Mundi. Come in,” she said, waving for him to sit down in one of the two plush chairs on the other side of her desk. “May I ask what this is about?”

Master Ki-Adi Mundi took up an almost intimidating amount of space—not in muscle bulk, although Padmé had no doubt he could win almost any fight he pleased. Jedi didn’t need to be muscle-bound in order to be incredibly strong. But no, it was Master Mundi’s head that did it—it was taller than her torso, maybe as tall as his, and when he leaned it, it made the effect all the more dramatic.

But then, Padmé was shorter than almost everyone, and she made a point of not letting it affect her.

“It has come to our attention that you’re in a romantic and sexual relationship with Anakin Skywalker.”

Padmé couldn’t stop herself from rearing back in shock, her tone rising as she demanded, “Excuse me?!” But looking impassive would only have made her more suspicious.

Probably.

“You’re not bothering to deny it, I notice.”

“Of course I am. That’s preposterous! Yes, General Skywalker have been friends since he served as my protection detail during the assassination attempts just before the start of the war. But that is all we are.”

Master Mundi didn’t even pause to entertain her statement.

“How odd, then, that he identified you as the mother of his child.”

 _Shit_. When the _fuck_ had Anakin done something so _stupid_ , he was halfway to the other side of the Galaxy—

“What child?” she asked instead, haughty.

“Let’s not pretend that Knight Skywalker knows the meaning of the word _classified_.” Padmé wanted to scoff, stupid of them to make him a general if he actually hadn’t. “He has shared information with you about classified Jedi matters, including the Sith that claims to be his son from the future.”

“I’m sure I would remember a story as outrageous as that.”

“Unfortunately for us all, evidence bears it out as not just a story. Now let me be very clear, Senator. We have an eyewitness account of Anakin Skywalker talking to this Sith and referring to you as the Sith’s mother. A statement the Sith affirmed. So let’s dispense with the denials. Where are Anakin and Luke Skywalker?”

Because of course they found out just after Anakin had supposedly been kidnapped by the Sith.

“I do not know why Knight Skywalker would have said such a thing.” Shit. She wasn’t sure there was a way out of the situation—interrogation—without throwing Anakin under the bus. Not if he’d actually _admitted it_ where _someone_ could _see_. “You say this supposed son of mine is from the future. Perhaps Knight Skywalker and I are in a relationship in this hypothetical timeline, but I assure you, we are not now.”

“Senator. You know as well as I do that Jedi are forbidden attachments— _relationships_. Particularly romantic ones, and especially the kind that lead to the sort of waxing poetic Knight Skywalker indulged in.”

 _Of course he did_.

“And I’m sure you know even better than I do that on Naboo, politicians are forbidden from relationships as well.” Padmé did not let herself react to that. “So that they may be focused entirely on serving their people, I understand, and executing their office _without distractions_. Naboo’s sentiments on the subject are similar to the Order’s, in that way. So I suggest you dispense with the act and answer my questions—or else your situation might get very unpleasant.”

“Master Mundi, I’m sure you’re not attempting to blackmail a senator of the Republic.”

Master Mundi shrugged, his face like stone. “Call it what you like. But, if I understand Naboo politics correctly, such knowledge becoming public could result in you being recalled. And that’s not to mention how such a scandal would interfere with your attempts to lobby for peace talks.”

 _Well, then._ Padmé supposed the time for denial was up. “Then I won’t mention how such a scandal would be disastrous to the Order—who are, of course, forbidden from involvement in politics. Public sentiment toward the Jedi worsens every day, and much as I regret that, I think it would bode ill for the Jedi if word got out that one of their most famous, most decorated generals were involved with a senator. Already, people suspect the Jedi of grabbing at power, even of using the Force to manipulate others and achieve their aims. Demonstrations against the Jedi are growing, even on Coruscant. Such a scandal would dramatically inflame those concerns.”

“Are you threatening,” Master Mundi asked slowly, “to claim that Anakin Skywalker has used the Force to coerce you into a romantic or sexual relationship against your will.”

“No,” Padmé said firmly. “No, I am not, and I will not. Because I don’t believe that blackmail is legal, nor that blackmailing members of the Republic’s government is an effective solution to my problems.”

“Good,” Master Mundi said, face dark, looming over her with the aid of his enormous head.

“But people will say it, regardless of what I claim. And I think you know that. I am merely pointing out that blackmailing me would likely not be worth the cost. Especially when I don’t know anything.”

“Senator Amidala, denying your relationship with Knight Skywalker is pointless—”

“I’m not denying it. You’ve made the futility quite clear. Yes, Anakin and I are involved. Yes, he mentioned Luke to me, and what the Sith had done to him. But I have not spoken to Anakin in days. He told me that he had something important to tell me the next morning, but he never called. He hasn’t been answering me. You likely have more information about his whereabouts than I do.”

Master Mundi’s eyes narrowed. “That was a quick acquiescence.”

“As you said, there is little point in further denial. So let’s call my quick acquiescence a favor—one I’m hoping you’ll return by updating me on Anakin’s situation. Disappearing like that is very unlike him, and I will admit that I’m worried.”

Master Mundi stared at her, assessing. Maybe attempting to probe her intentions with the Force. But Anakin had told her—at her urgent questioning, after hearing what Ventress had done to Rex—that her mind was unusually resistant to the Force. Resistant enough that she’d notice, at least, before someone learned information that she wanted to keep secret.

“Fine.” Master Mundi pushed himself to standing, where he conveniently loomed even more. “Knight Skywalker has either been captured by the Sith, or has defected to them. Tell no one. And if you hear from him, contact the Council _immediately_. Failure to do so will be taken as a sign of your complicity with enemies of the Republic.”

Master Mundi turned and headed briskly to the door. But Padmé wasn’t going to let him leave on that note.

“So you’ll keep me updated?” Padmé asked, deigning to ignore the accusation. But if she could manage to get information on what the Jedi knew…

Master Mundi stopped in the doorway and turned back around to stare at her. “Do not push your luck, Senator.”

\--

Most of Quinlan’s searches were less than fruitful. That was the downside of Force suppressant cells and Force suppressant cuffs: no one imprisoned by them left any impressions that he could pick up.

But _most_ didn’t mean _all_.

Quinlan had tried the floors outside the cells that Skywalker and Vexion had been caught in, hoping to see a glimpse of their escape. He’d seen a few—the entity controlling Obi-Wan Force choking the guards, or something like it. The bounty hunter’s skeptical gaze as she asked, _“So, does this mean you’re on our side?”_ and Obi-Wan’s mouth smirking, _“Not quite.”_

Obi-Wan’s hands opening the cuffs around Vexion’s wrists.

And then Vexion’s emotions flooded into him:

_Light after days in a dark, sealed vault; sound after weeks drifting in vacuum, the touch of another person after months and years alone._

_Vexion had been overwhelmed. Every sense, gone—only the Force. She’d been flying in it, drowning in it, the rush of the Force back into her and the eddies it had left were carved deep._

_The slow return of moderation. The kind of non-blissed-out emotions that signaled consciousness._

_Vexion on her knees, Skywalker crouched in front of her, running his hands through her hair._

_Joy. From both of them—maybe._

“ _Mara,” Skywalker whispered, “Mara.”_

_Vexion’s voice, taut and ragged. “I’m here. I’m here.”_

There hadn’t been any malice. No Darkness at all.

And Quinlan? Quinlan had no idea what to do with that.

\--

“Padmé.” Sabé stood in front of the senator’s desk, feet planted and shoulders squared. “This is reckless.”

Padmé knew it was reckless. But, somehow, she didn’t quite care. Doing something reckless was still doing _something_.

“It’s a bit too late,” Padmé drawled, leaning farther back in her chair than she’d ever let herself in public. The stiff, metal-embroidered collar of her dress dug into her skin. “Perhaps you should have objected before I planted the listening device.”

Sabé raised an eyebrow and glared. Which, fair—she had objected. But Sabé had been her Handmaiden and bodyguard too long to have honestly thought _that_ level of objection would make her reconsider.

Of course, Padmé hadn’t fully explained the whole “the Chancellor is a fascist Sith Lord who will conquer the Galaxy and slaughter millions” issue until _after_ she’d planted the bug.

“Sabé, planting the first device went exactly to plan. I will be perfectly fine.”

“Yes, _planting_ the first device went according to plan. But besides your insane plan to bug the Chancellor’s inner office, you still have to _retrieve_ both of the devices if you want any information at all. And all your reassurances about how the devices can’t be tracked, how they’re perfectly generic and will point no fingers at Naboo? Those are useless the second the devices are found, because then Palpatine and his security team will set a trap and wait for _whoever picks them up_.”

And that was the difficulty, of course. If they could have used active transmitters, then Padmé wouldn’t have to risk retrieving them, and she could just take what info she could get before they were found. But of course, the Senate wasn’t _completely_ stupid and unsecured, however it might have felt sometimes. Signal scramblers came standard in all senatorial offices, and were a key part of security. Nothing except a network-verified datapad or comm could get a signal out of a senatorial office. Individual devices had to each be screened and authorized by Senate security, so there were no access codes they could use or spoof.

And slipping something into Palpatine’s office would be hard enough—Padmé wasn’t even going to try tampering with his datapads.

“I might not have gone through training quite as rigorous as a Handmaiden’s, Sabé, but you saw what I did undergo. I can do this.”

“And what about the rumors that Force users can _read minds_?”

“Those rumors are exaggerated,” Padmé sighed. She’d asked Anakin, once, having worked herself up over whispers of Jedi espionage early in the war. Not that they actually _saw each other_ enough for it to have mattered much, if it were true.

Padmé knew rationally that was just the bitterness talking. But she missed Anakin enough days, and that was without considering Luke, her actually not evil _son_ , whom she’d never even _met_ —

“I thought Anakin had said that the Jedi didn’t even know Force ghosts existed until one possessed Obi-Wan.”

That, Padmé thought, was an irritatingly good point. “It doesn’t matter. I have to do this.”

“You really, really don’t.”

“I am a politician. I may detest lying, but I am certainly competent at it. Besides, would it not look more suspicious if I backed out of tea with the Chancellor? Given his past...mentorship...it would be very irregular for me to do so.”

Sabé sighed explosively. “Fine. But we are going to spend every minute that you do not have an appointment today preparing. You are going to drill answers, you are going to control your reactions, you will not let even the slightest hint of suspicion or anger slip through, and you will do all of it until I’m satisfied.”

And _that_ was why Padmé had long trusted Sabé with her life.

“Of course.”

\--

“I dunno, Vos,” Siri said teasingly, “are you sure you’ll fit?”

Quinlan rolled his eyes, though he was grinning. “Obi-Wan fit.”

“Yeah, but Obi-Wan’s half-way to a stick.”

“And I, of course, am infinitely buffer and hotter,” Quinlan winked.

Siri scoffed. “More like cockier.”

“Ooh,” Quinlan said, making sure to grin as lasciviously as possible. “ _Cockier_ , why yes I am.”

“Whatever. Have fun getting covered with dust.”

“…Thanks,” Quinlan muttered even as Siri turned back to her datapad. Because that was, unfortunately, exactly what he was going to be doing.

It would be a horrible waste of time, energy, and droids to keep the crawlspaces between the different structures and architectural phases of the Temple clean. Quinlan still kind of wished someone had bothered.

Then he pulled open the maintenance and construction hatch leading into the crawlspace, stepped inside, and _really_ wished someone had bothered.

He also immediately sneezed. Five times.

“Yeesh,” Siri called as Quinlan walked in further. She probably still wasn’t looking up, Quinlan knew. “You want me to bring a healer? Get you some allergy meds? Maybe those huge allergy shots?”

“Sure,” Vos called back, “as long as they stab you along with me.”

Two steps later, he was crawling, because the name crawlspace was painfully not a metaphor.

But the crawlspace was the way Obi-Wan had broken out, or rather been kidnapped. All of Obi-Wan’s cell was Force-shielded; the hole in the ceiling might have disrupted the shielding, but that didn’t get Quinlan anything retroactive. And the Force-shielding suppressed all external Force use, meaning that nothing could have left an impression for Quinlan’s psychometry to pick up.

Maybe, if he was lucky, he’d get something from between the moment the shielding had failed and the moment that the entity had made its escape, depending on how long it had stayed put. But Quinlan wasn’t counting on it.

The hole in the ceiling, though… The hole in the ceiling was promising, because the crawlspace was not shielded at all, so Quinlan should be able to find impressions from everyone who’d gone through.

And the hole in the ceiling of Obi-Wan’s cell? Had been made by a lightsaber.

Which, sure, the entity might have somehow gotten access to.

But the Council and the guards had no idea how it could have.

\--

Quinlan came out of the interstructural crawlspace incredibly grimy and visibly annoyed.

And maybe, Siri thought archly, even perturbed.

“Find anything?” she prompted.

Quinlan took a deep breath, sneezed, tried to take another deep breath, started coughing so hard his dusty dreadlocks shook, and after that died down, half-wheezed, “Confirmation the hole was made by a lightsaber.”

 _Inconvenient_ , Siri thought, not at the news, because that had been obvious, but at Quinlan’s dust sensitivity. The breathiness was keeping her from getting a better read on him.

“That’s it?”

Quinlan shrugged and started brushing the dust off his arms, or rather futilely attempting to, and coughing again when he stirred it up. “Obi-Wan’s body crawled out through there, like we knew. Plus scattered emotions. Urgency, resolution, stuff like that.”

“Right,” Siri said. “Well, now that you’re done with the _touchy-feely_ part of your job, I should probably stop bugging you, huh?”

Quinlan laughed. “You? Bugging me? Never.”

“Well then,” Siri said, “it’s late afternoon, and we never had lunch. Mess hall?”

“Ah, the mess hall,” Quinlan said, already starting in that direction. “How can I say no to those culinary masterpieces?”

“Better than rations.”

Quinlan winced. “Ugh. Don’t remind me.”

\--

“Therefore,” General Windu said, voice crackling slightly as it came through the comm, “the 501st and the 212th are to be redeployed immediately to respond to the Separatist incursions.”

Cody and Rex did not shoot each other looks. But Rex did tap his first two fingers softly against his armored thigh, out of view of the holo—a much more useful gesture when one wore a helmet most of the time. Cody tapped back his own acknowledgement.

“I notice you haven’t mentioned Generals Kenobi and Skywalker.” Cody was the one to raise the issue, given his superior rank.

Given the Jedi in general—and from what Ponds had said, General Windu in particular—Rex took it as a sign of trust that the Master of the Order allowed them to see the slightest tightening around his eyes.

“I’m afraid that’s a complicated matter,” General Windu said, and Rex scrambled to think of ways he could convince them to give more details, because if they were being sent into battle without their _jeti’i_ , they deserved an explanation, especially after Krell’s butchery, “but you do both need to know.”

Rex somehow managed to not be visibly taken aback.

“Sir,” Cody said in acknowledgement.

General Windu sighed. “You should forward the comm to the strategy room table and sit down.”

Rex tapped his thigh again, this time much more emphatically. Cody’s tap came as he transferred the comm signal. It was softer, a negation of Rex’s worry. But it was still alert.

“Unfortunately, Generals Kenobi and Skywalker will not be joining you. Their situation is classified at the highest level—as few people as possible should even know that they’re not with you. You are both to assist Generals Jaslin and Zdenka with running the 501st and the 212th in order to not only make everything run as smoothly as possible, but to ensure that, from the outside, Kenobi and Skywalker appear to still be in charge.”

“But in actuality…?” Rex spoke up. If he was reading the general right, they might actually get an official answer on what was happening. On why Skywalker had dropped out of contact days ago, mid-crisis and despite having promised Cody regular updates on General Kenobi’s situation.

“In actuality, Kenobi and Skywalker have both been captured by the Sith, along with Padawan Tano.”

Rex inhaled sharply. Next to him, he could feel Cody tense.

_How dare—_

“Suffice to say,” General Windu continued, “this is a problem. But it will be more of one if word gets out, especially given how much of the Republic’s PR has come to revolve around them. I want to reassure you that we are doing everything in our power to find and bring them back safely. Two of our Councilors are on the team tracking them. But at the moment, their whereabouts are unknown.”

“Sir, if I may. How did this happen?” Rex asked. Yes, Skywalker had told him and Cody that Kenobi had somehow been taken over by a Sith—not that General Windu knew that they knew that. But there was a long way between Kenobi, possessed by a Sith and locked in the most secure cell the Jedi had, and Kenobi, Skywalker, and Tano all captured by the Sith, who’d broken out to wreak havoc on the Galaxy.

“That’s the other reason the Council has chosen to inform you of the details,” General Windu said. “When the 501st and the 212th took the three Sith and the bounty hunter prisoner on Krant, it appears that some sort of Sith entity came with them. It’s now possessing Master Kenobi.”

Rex carefully schooled his face into shock and confusion.

“What does that mean, sir?” Cody asked.

General Windu blinked and exhaled sharply. “You both already knew. Of course you did. Well, Skywalker is clearly due for another training on the meaning of _classified_ , but fine. That makes this easier. How much did he tell you?”

Rex straightened. “Not much, sir.” Well, not that much. Most of it hadn’t been facts, anyway, so much as emotions about those facts. “We knew from the return trip to Coruscant that the Sith were captured, and that one of them was claiming to be General Skywalker’s son. The general informed us that they were imprisoned at the Temple, and that DNA and other tests appeared to bear out the parentage claims. He later informed us when it was discovered that General Kenobi had been subverted by the Sith and imprisoned.”

Raising an eyebrow, General Windu turned to Cody. “And what did he say to you?”

“Not much else. The details of why the general’s paperwork wasn’t getting done, mostly, and whether any of it would still be on his datapads after he was arrested.”

“On that,” General Windu said, “we’re investigating whether any anomalies turn up in between the when Obi-Wan was possessed, and when we found out about it. So far nothing has turned up, but we will notify you if anything relevant does. In the meantime, Commander, please conduct your own audit of Kenobi's recent commands.”

“Yes, sir.” Cody saluted.

“Knight Skywalker’s outline of the situation was accurate, though necessarily simplified. Skywalker dropped out of contact because three days ago, the entity possessing Master Kenobi broke out of its cell, freed Luke Skywalker and his Sith Master, Vexion, and escaped the Temple. In doing so, the three lured Knight Skywalker and Padawan Tano into chasing them onto a ship, closed the bay doors behind them, and took off using Master Kenobi’s clearance codes.”

Rex swallowed. That was bad. And it wasn’t enough that the entity had taken over Kenobi, or kidnapped Skywalker. It had kidnapped Tano. She was just a mite! Commander or not.

“General,” Rex said, words coming almost before he realized what he was saying, “I want to join the search for them.”

“No.”

“Sir—”

“Your loyalty is admirable, Captain Rex. But given the nature of their captors, an all-Jedi team was sent. This situation calls for a precision strike team, not a larger force. And with the Sith, it is far too risky to send someone vulnerable to mind tricks.”

“Sir,” Cody said, in his very careful I'm-not-arguing-with-you-but-just-for-your-information tone, “if the Sith could overwhelm General Kenobi, isn't it moot point?”

Rex thought Windu's lips might have tightened, but with the resolution of the comm image, he couldn't be sure.

“The way in which the entity possessed General Kenobi is different from conventional mind tricks. And if the Force is with us at all, that difference isn't moot.”

“Sir,” Cody said in acknowledgement.

Not that the thought of being useless, being a liability, didn't burn just as much as when Dooku’s Sith assassin Ventress had pried her way into his mind and used him to try to lure General Skywalker into a trap. Had made him tell his general that the coast was clear, even as Ventress had held her saber to his neck.

Just because Rex could see the risks didn't mean that he didn't resent them.

“But the Sith's mind control abilities,” Windu continued after a moment, “are one of our primary concerns. You two are being trusted with this information in part because the entity might contact you, pretending to be Kenobi. And if they manage to control Skywalker, you might hear from him well. They might be looking for information on Republic forces, or the search for them. Or trying to set a trap. And if that happens, the Council needs to know immediately.”

Rex could feel his expression setting into stone. “Sir, yes, sir.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates for the rest of Part 1 (two more chapters after this) will be on Wednesdays instead of Saturdays, for schedule reasons. So you get the fic sooner! Thanks to SapphiraBlue for the beta.
> 
> No specific warnings for this one, except brief mention of drugs. Just lots of phone calls, plus some people lying to each other and themselves ;)
> 
> Also, I've had a lot of people worry that I'm gonna kill Padme the past couple chapters--so without eliminating the suspense entirely, let me just say that in this house, we do not fridge female characters. And honestly I don't actually like writing character death. The only people who will die in this fic are bad guys. I promise.

“You,” Anakin said, having marched right up to Luke and grabbed his arm, “are coming with me.”

Luke raised an amused eyebrow at his father—well, his father’s back—and let himself be pulled. His tone was adamant, but it wasn’t angry. A bit urgent, perhaps, but—excited?

In the hand his father wasn’t dragging along, Luke held onto his mug of caff—thankfully only half-full, or he’d have had to use the Force to keep it from spilling. It was a sad substitute for hot chocolate, but that didn’t mean he wanted to spill it, no matter how curious he was to see where Anakin was taking him.

Anakin started pulling less aggressively as they got further from the galley—heading for the cockpit, Luke quickly realized.

And he was right. “Sit,” Anakin said, staring at Luke and pointing at the co-pilot’s chair.

“Sir, yes, sir,” Luke said wryly Anakin’s, eyebrow once again raised.

Anakin might have blushed, ever so slightly, eyes darting to the side. Before they quickly darted back to the ship’s controls.

With a speed that suggested a lot of familiarity with a random and not exactly top-of-the-line Jedi freighter model, Anakin went right for the comm controls. The technology was all old, to Luke, but then so had been most of what the Rebellion had used. He could recognize the _extensive_ encryption programs being plugged into the computer before the comm address was inputted.

If Luke’s curiosity had been piqued before, it was ravenous at that sight. And apprehensive—they were trying to hide from both the Jedi and the most powerful man in the Galaxy. Yes, those encryption codes would probably have them covered, but that didn’t account for human error. No one was supposed to know where they were.

But he’d gotten good at the whole _patience_ thing, over the years, and he trusted Anakin not to do anything that would compromise them.

Or…well, he _wanted_ to trust Anakin.

Maybe that meant letting his father prove he was worthy of that trust.

The comm buzzed once, twice, then connected.

The image of a woman appeared, an inch or two above the console. Luke gasped.

One of the only things that Vader’s—Anakin’s—Force ghost had ever told him, was the name of his mother.

He had looked her up. Shown Leia, who had refused to speak with Anakin’s ghost under any circumstances.

Luke could recognize his mother’s image, even blue-tinted and miniscule and grainy with the delay of encryption.

“Padmé,” Anakin said, voice tight and warm at once. He rotated the comm viewer so that both of them would be visible, on her end. “This is our son.”

Padmé’s hand shot to her mouth. The other one reached forward, toward what would have been the comm display on her end. On Luke’s end, it was just toward him.

“ _Luke_?”

Luke’s mouth tugged into an awkward, lopsided grin despite himself. “Hi, mom.”

\--

Growing up, Luke had never been invested in the idea of his mother, the way he had his father. After all, he knew who his father was—or he had thought so, anyway.

He’d asked his aunt and uncle a lot, when he was younger. When he was four, he’d probably asked them five times a day, all, “Who was my mom?” and “But are you _sure_?” and “Really, _really_ sure?”

They indulged him for a while, at least enough to answer.

They’d said that they didn’t know who his mother was. That his father had met her while out in the Galaxy, traveling for work.

 _Navigator on a spice freighter_. People on Tatooine didn’t look down on being a drug runner, the way most of the Galaxy did. Of course, Luke had gotten some horrified and incredulous looks, mostly at his careless attitude about it, before he’d realized what parts of the Galaxy did think. What the members of the Core worlds that made up most of the Rebellion leadership thought.

Luke hadn’t been able to look Mon Mothma in the eye for a week.

But on Tatooine, if you were free, and you had enough to buy yourself food and water, and you weren’t refusing to help your family if they needed it—it was a job. Times were hard, and survival was survival—everyone knew that. You were keeping yourself free and alive, and even better if you were something like a navigator, a person who probably didn’t really kill people.

(Sometimes, Luke _viciously_ missed the days when he’d thought his father hadn’t killed people.)

But something in Luke hadn’t believed Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen, when they said they’d never met his mother. When they said his birth had probably been just thanks to a space-borne fling.

Maybe, Luke had wondered, since learning the truth, maybe he’d been hearing the Force, even back then.

Because Padmé wasn’t some smuggler who’d had a tryst with an itinerant navigator. And even through the blur and lines of the holo, Luke was pretty sure that her dress cost more than all of Anchorhead.

“Tell me about yourself, Luke,” Padmé said, “I want to know everything.”

Luke chuckled a bit. That was fair, he supposed—he wanted to know everything about his parents too. “Well, I’m a Jedi.”

“The Grandmaster of the Jedi Order,” Anakin cut in.

“So I heard,” Padmé said, arch but curious.

“Yeah, well, there’s not a lot of competition for the title, I suppose. I’m hardly claiming to be as wise as Master Yoda.”

Anakin scoffed and Luke turned to him in question.

“What?”

“What?”

Anakin sighed. “I just don’t get how you think Master Yoda is all that wise, after the past few weeks. You know he was probably planning to execute you, right.”

Luke could feel his face doing—something. Probably something as unpleasant as that thought was.

But it wasn’t like he’d never changed Yoda’s opinion of him around before...hopefully he’d get the chance to in this time period as well.

“I can’t speak as to Yoda now,” Luke said, forcing down his giant morass of conflicting emotions about the situation. “He never participated in the interrogations, or anything. I could feel him behind the two-way glass, a couple times when everyone thought I was in Force-suppressant binders, but that’s it. But when I met him in the future, he was pretty wise. A bit crazy, maybe,” a slight, strained grin, “but wise.”

“Now, Luke,” Padmé said, and already Luke could picture what she’d have been like as a mom, “I’m sure that Master Yoda wasn’t crazy.”

Anakin just looked like he wanted to snicker.

“Well he did a very good job of pretending to be, at least.”

“I’m sure,” Padmé answered, eyebrow raised.

“But yeah, anyway, umm...Mother. You seem...really okay with all this. I mean, you’re taking it surprisingly well.”

Luke wasn’t yet great at referring to her that way in his head—wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to be—but saying it out loud made Padmé radiant with joy.

“Luke,” she said, voice soft. “My son.”

“Our son,” Anakin agreed, leaning in against Luke’s shoulder for just a second.

Luke supposed he shouldn’t be surprised, given what he’d heard about the Jedi and their opinions on love, but...a shoulder lean? Really? And yeah, Luke wasn’t sure he was eager to hug his father, there was still too much history and emotion there, but Anakin hadn’t experienced most of it.

“But yes, Luke,” Padmé said, still smiling widely, “I suppose I am. It’s just...well. It’s complicated, of course. But I’ve been trying to focus on the good. Even more so now that we know the truth about you, and I know I can actually get to know you.”

“Well, that’s one way to cope with this kind of news,” Luke said, smiling. But internally, he—well, it wasn’t any of his business, he told himself.

But did his mother know about Darth Vader? Because if Anakin had said anything about his own future, Padmé didn’t show any sign of it.

Well, she was a politician. Maybe she was just good at hiding it.

Or his father hadn’t told her. Given everything Luke had learned about his father in the past few weeks, that was also definitely possible.

\--

“More tea?”

“Yes, thank you, Chancellor,” Padmé said, smiling. She even managed to make the warmth in expression genuine.

“But of course,” Palpatine said, leaning partway over his oversized, opulent desk to meet the cup she was pushing forward, and pour the tea from a lapis and lacquer pot. It was funny, but Padmé had never found his taste in décor aggravating, before. But what had always seemed like an embrace of Naboo’s political and court traditions, post-revelation, smacked of grandiosity.

But no distaste was visible. She was far too good at her job to allow that. And even if she hadn’t been, Sabé was very good at hers.

And Palpatine was supremely good at his. Far moreso than he’d let on.

Still, to Padmé, he seemed...distracted. Actually, he’d admitted to being distracted, brushed it off as stress over the war, the more metaphorical war in the Senate—“You know how it is, my dear, you know how it is.”

But it didn’t matter. Almost the first thing she’d done after sitting down was stick a small, nigh-unnoticeable recorder on the underside of her chair.

She took tea with the Chancellor an average of once every two weeks. And she had an appointment with him to discuss the latest war appropriations bill in four days, along with Senator Organa and a handful of others.

She wasn’t sure if four days was too soon to retrieve the recorder...but soon, she would have information. And, if she was lucky, she would have proof.

“So, tell me, Padmé—have you heard from Anakin lately?”

Padmé forced her face into an expression of surprise and confusion. She wasn’t sure it worked. “Not too recently—why do you ask?”

“Well, I’ve been trying to invite him to my office for the past few weeks—we have to take what chances we can, after all, he’s on Coruscant so rarely. But he’s been unusually busy, of late, and then a few days ago, stopped responding to my messages entirely. Call it the worries of an old man, but I find myself concerned.”

“ _We_?” That wasn’t what she should have focused on—but she couldn’t help it, the Chancellor didn’t know of her marriage—

“Why, yes, I know you’ve maintained a friendship with young Skywalker since that unfortunate streak of assassination attempts. You’d almost have to, given how often he and Master Kenobi are involved in political events on Coruscant.”

Maybe Palpatine didn’t know. He seemed genial as ever.

But then again, he was apparently a Sith Lord. One actively trying to turn Anakin into his genocidal servant. She should have guessed that he’d know. If he was at all competent as an evil mastermind—which he’d have to be, from what Anakin and Luke had said of the future—then _of course_ he’d know.

“Ah, yes, of course. Well, I haven’t heard from him in the past few days, but I imagine he’s busy with the war effort. You know how it is.”

“Yes, yes of course.” Palpatine’s smile still almost set her at ease, even knowing everything he would do. How could he do that? “Yes, I’m sure he’s simply busy. I do hope it’s not anything too serious—it’s nothing the Jedi have briefed me on, so there is that, at least. But I do worry for the young man. He’s had to deal with so much in his short life—I only hope he’s alright.”

Did Palpatine think she knew that Anakin was missing? The sentiment certainly wasn’t genuine, but how much of it was active manipulation—was he trying to figure out what she knew about the abduction?

Had the Jedi honestly not briefed him on it? That seemed...improbable, given the effect that the disappearance of the Hero with No Fear and the Negotiator would have on the war, and public opinion about the war.

But she would only be suspicious that he hadn’t been briefed if she knew something about what had happened to Anakin.

“I hope so too, Chancellor,” Padmé said with a gentle smile.

\--

The second Senator Amidala walked out of his office, Sidious let the amiable expression drop right off of his face.

 _Taking tea with Senator Amidala_.

It was only to be expected of him, given the mentorship he’d cultivated between the two of them. And it was a good way to keep an extra eye on Anakin’s emotional state, his whereabouts. To plant seeds in Anakin’s psyche via a proxy, ones that he could later reap.

And Senator Amidala did know _something_ , that was clear. She’d been on edge, worried—some of that probably due to the hint he’d dropped about knowing of her marriage, but certainly not all of it.

But the Jedi would never have told her what was happening. She could only know that Anakin was missing, and no one would tell her why. That would put anyone on edge, especially a young, naive, pathetic woman like Amidala.

But it was no matter. He’d have to look into cultivating her anxiety—it could only help him if Anakin’s eventual return was as drama-filled and un-soothing as possible.

And in the meantime, he had much more important matters to attend to.

The holocomm he’d been waiting on—waiting far too long, what was his pathetic apprentice doing—connected with a soft chime, and Dooku’s bowing form appeared before him. “Yes, Master?”

“There have been developments,” Sidious said, letting his mouth tug into a malicious grin. He couldn’t tell Tyrannus too much, no need to let the man get ambitious—he would tell Tyrannus only enough to be useful.

“You’re going to hire some bounty hunters,” Sidious drawled imperiously. “Because we are going to capture Skywalker, Kenobi, and several newly revealed Sith.”

\--

Anakin knew he had to lie to Rex and Cody. He also knew that if they knew what was going on, they’d want to do whatever they could to stop the downfall of the Republic, and halt the danger to their troops—a different kind of danger than the Jedi were in, but nonetheless. After all, what was worse? Dying, or being as good as dead, and having your body and skills used to murder and betray everything you stood for?

But the lying still left a sore taste in his mouth.

His men (and Obi-Wan’s) were some of the best in the Galaxy. They’d put up with so much shit for the Republic, going into battle after thankless battle, dying in horrifying numbers. And they weren’t even citizens of the Republic, had no goddamn rights, couldn’t leave the military if the wanted to.

So yeah, lying to them and basically asking them to go AWOL on false pretenses fucking sucked. But the Jedi would have found _some_ way to tell the whole GAR that Anakin and Obi-Wan couldn’t be trusted, and to keep an eye out for them. So if they wanted to sneak onto Kamino, they needed someone with access—unrevoked access.

And very few people had more access than the Marshall Commander of the GAR.

Anakin had expected the holocomm he was waiting on to go to voicemail—again, because this wasn’t exactly something he could just leave a recorded message about.

But then, with a loud click, the comm picked up, and Rex appeared in miniature in front of him.

“General!” Rex said, visibly startled. “Thank the Force you’re alright. When you stopped updating me and Cody, we were worried.”

And Rex looked worried, too, Anakin thought. His brow was creased and his mouth had settled at a weird midpoint between a grimace and a smile.

“Yeah, it’s, uh, a long story. Rex, did the Order tell you anything about what happened?”

“Yeah, a bit,” Rex drawled. “They said that the piece of shit possessing General Kenobi managed to get loose with two of the Sith, and kidnapped you and Ahsoka. Wanted us to keep an eye out, ‘specially for any attempts to make contact.”

Anakin sighed. That made things both harder and easier, but at least the Council had bothered telling his men what was going on. “Yeah, that’s basically what happened. But it’s okay. Ahsoka and I managed to fight them off and retake the ship.”

Rex’s eyebrows shot up. “Good. And as expected, with the two of you.”

Anakin chuckled, and hoped it didn’t sound too strained. “Thanks.”

“So, you want me to tell the Council you’re okay, and rendezvous to pick you up?”

Well, at least Rex would think the second part was his own idea, instead of a request from a dubious source that he'd need to get suspicious over. “Half-right. Listen, Rex…” Had Anakin’s throat been so dry, a minute ago?

Rex leaned in toward the comm, his image flickering with the motion.

“Rex, I need to ask a favor. A big one. I promise I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t life and death.” And if was, just not the life and death that he was going to tell Rex.

Or maybe it was. Force knew what the Council would do if they caught Obi-Wan and Luke and Mara again. Especially if they didn’t think Obi-Wan’s “problem” could be solved.

“What is it, General?”

Anakin took a breath. “I need you to not tell the Council about this.”

Rex’s face turned to the side, brows drawn— “General…”

“I _promise_ I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t serious. But Rex, they were going to execute my _son_. And Obi-Wan too, for all I know, if they didn’t think they could get him un-possessed. This will have only made it worse—they’ll think the risk is too high—”

“Right.” Rex looked—well, Anakin wasn’t the best at reading people when he wasn’t super stressed and lying to one of his closest friends. But he did know Rex better than almost anyone else in the Galaxy, especially Rex under pressure, so…

He thought Rex looked…resolved. Determined.

“You know I’m not gonna let them kill General Kenobi, and you know damn well that Cody isn’t either. And you know that vod’e understand what family means.” _Unlike the Jedi_ , Anakin heard. “So. I assume you’ve got a plan?”

“I’ve got a lead. The Sith—Vexion let something slip. I might have a way to kick this fucking Sith ghost out of Obi-Wan. But I need your help, and Cody’s.”

“What is it?” Rex pressed, urgent.

“I can’t talk about it over comm.” Mostly because they hadn’t been able to think of much that would justify asking both Rex and Cody to go AWOL and meet them. But Rex and Cody trusted him, at least with things that didn’t involve landing ships. Or subtlety. So after like fifteen minutes of arguing, they’d all agreed it would have to be fine. “But I’ll tell you everything, I swear.” And he _would_. “In person. Meet me on the Ring of Kafrene.”

There was a pause. “General…”

“You are still on leave, right? They wouldn’t have redeployed you and the 212th, not this soon—that would have made it way too obvious Obi-Wan and I were gone.” Then again, if they were issuing APBs, it might not matter…

“No,” Rex said after a moment. “We’re still on Coruscant. Haven’t been redeployed yet.”

 _Thank the Force_. Asking them to fly off in the middle of their leave was one thing. Asking them to go AWOL in the middle of active deployment would have been a million times harder.

“Okay. Can you come meet us?”

“…Yeah. Yeah, we can do that. We can get away without the Jedi noticing, too. We’ll ask some of them men to cover for us. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Thank you, Rex. I owe you.”

Rex snorted. “Damn right you do, General. And to start that repayment, tell me honestly—are you and the Commander okay?”

“Yeah, Rex. Yeah, we are. Ahsoka says hi. She wanted to come, but she’s watching the security feeds. The problem with trying to keep three people captive and fly a ship with only the two of us. But honestly I think she’s the most fine out of everyone.”

Rex chuckled a bit. “Yeah, that sounds like the Commander. So, when should we meet you at the Ring of Kafrene?”

“How soon can you get there?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm actually dumping the whole rest of Part 1 this week after all. I'm dealing with some stuff right now irl, and honestly, I tend to get really in my head about the response to my fics when I post them as I'm still writing them. Like, there's a reason I tried to stop posting WIPs at all for a good while; if I post fics when they're already finished, I don't struggle so much with whether anyone even cares, and lose most of my motivation to write. And I can't keep being in this headspace right now, hence the posting it all so quickly. So, yeah, enjoy. And maybe send some digital hugs...I've had a hard couple weeks.
> 
> The Ring of Kafrene is lifted wholesale from Rogue One. Thanks as always to SapphiraBlue for being an excellent beta and cheerleader. This fic would not have gotten this far without them (actually this fic wouldn't exist without them--I would have written a sequel).
> 
>  **Warnings:** Discussion of suicide. See end notes for details.

The Ring of Kafrene.

It wasn’t much different than the last time Mara had seen it, five years ago and thirty years into the future. Still worn-down and cramped, still crowded with beings of every size and species imaginable. Still the slightest bit awe-inspiring, when you were in the right spot, on a surface level, and could see the towers, duracrete beams, and metal strata binding the two asteroids together.

“I can’t believe we’re relying on intel from decades in the future and just crossing our fingers,” Anakin Skywalker grumbled. Quiet enough that no one outside their covert little caravan could hear, at least.

“And I can’t believe that none of you have been anywhere sketchier,” Mara replied.

Skywalker snorted. “I’m from Tatooine.”

“Sketchier and convenient to Coruscant—which you knew I meant.”

“We did suggest Corellia,” Kenobi offered, ducking around a large, six-armed alien taking up far too much of the narrow, metal-walled pathway.

“Please,” Ahsoka interjected from where she was almost pressed against Kenobi’s side—a defense against the crowds, and the exploitative attitudes many sentients held toward Togruta girls, especially in seedier areas. “Like anybody thought a Core planet like Corellia was a good idea.”

“Yeah, if we wanted a lawless Core planet, we could’ve just stayed on Coruscant,” Skywalker muttered.

“Is it really that bad?” Luke asked, then ducked around a corner to avoid a security officer, pulling Mara and his father with him.

“You don’t know?” Skywalker asked, not even waiting for the security officers to pass.

At least there were far fewer of them than there had been stormtroopers, during Mara’s Imperial missions to Kafrene.

“Well, Father,” Luke said with humor, “we didn’t exactly have a great view from inside those cells.”

Skywalker’s face contorted amusingly. Mara kept her smirk internal as she signaled the all-clear.

They regrouped with Kenobi, Ahsoka, and presumably Old Ben, though Mara wasn’t sure whether he was following them invisibly or hitching a ride with Kenobi.

If it was the second, Mara was grudgingly impressed by Kenobi’s nonchalance.

They piled into a lift as Ahsoka started peppering Mara with questions about protocols for bribing docking officials—which was the only way to land on Kafrene at this point in history. The turbolift was dingy, much-graffitid, and when Mara pressed the button for the level they’d given Rex and Cody, it made a truly alarming number of clanking sounds as it slowly moved them down into the center of the asteroid.

“So how do you know when you’re supposed to bribe someone and when they’ll arrest you for trying?” Ahsoka asked.

Mara let herself smile. Ahsoka, determined to get over her lingering fear and realizing that Mara and Luke knew a lot of things that Jedi generally didn’t, had seemingly made it her mission to eke out every bit of knowledge she possibly could. “Oh, they’ll usually make it clear. And unless you’re somewhere upscale or authoritarian, they’re probably not gonna bother citing you.”

Ahsoka still hadn’t pulled up her hood—none of them had, the cameras in the lift were clearly visible, if debatably functional—but her mouth was stretched into a grin.

The lift slowly clunked to a stop, and Mara could hear Luke taking a bracing breath behind her.

Mara had been six years old when she’d been trained out of that habit, but she didn’t begrudge him. Besides, the warehouse they’d picked was close: they’d risked a warehouse near the lift to provide a quick escape, if necessary. And because further in, the public maps of Kafrene would quickly become unreliable.

“Alright,” Mara said. “You all know the plan. Time to set it up.”

\--

It was 15:10 local time. Asteroid time, in Kafrene’s case.

Rex and Cody were late.

Not by a lot, but it was enough to put Anakin on edge.

He really wanted to say as much to Obi-Wan, make a joke about it that would break the tension. But he couldn’t, because Rex and Cody were two of the best officers in the GAR, and no way they would walk into a meeting that involved an imprisoned Sith Lord without doing some recon.

Or rather, a situation that they’d been told involved an imprisoned Sith Lord. Because Anakin hadn’t already felt deeply awkward about taking advantage of their trust and loyalty.

They’d agreed to come, which meant they’d gone AWOL for him. No amount of Anakin reminding himself it was necessary, or Obi-Wan making pointed and weary comments about the fate of the Galaxy, was going to make Anakin stop feeling crappy about—

Anakin’s comm—newly outfitted with super strong future encryption—beeped twice.

It was Jade. And the signal—Rex and Cody were approaching. Alone, as promised.

Obi-Wan straightened, but not much. Because Anakin had handcuffed him to the piping on the warehouse’s door control console.

That was also not something Anakin felt great about, even if the Force suppression in the cuffs was disabled, and they weren’t even locked. The open seam was just behind Obi-Wan’s hand, to maintain the setup designed to set Rex and Cody at ease so they could explain.

Four beeps from the comm. Wall-penetrating recon. Anakin could feel Ahsoka shift next to him, but she managed not to look at where Luke or Mara were hidden in the rafters, perched behind steam and hot gas pipes in case of infrared, which was probably what Rex and Cody were using.

Luke and Mara could still see out of the narrow, high-set windows, though, at least until they ducked completely.

Unlike Anakin, they weren’t stuck trying not to bounce in place as they wondered what was happening outside. Give him a starfighter and a raging battle and he was great, but Anakin had never liked waiting.

Three beeps, a pause, one long beep. Rex and Cody were approaching. All still clear.

A few long, tense seconds passed. Then there was a knock at the warehouse door. The regular, being-sized one, not the enormous freight doors.

Anakin punched down on the unlock button on the control console, and the door sprang open.

They had come.

Rex walked in first, Cody following behind him to give cover. Both were completely armored up and helmeted, and both had their blasters out. Pointed at the ground, but ready to raise and shoot in an instant.

“I’m so glad you guys came,” Anakin’s words rushed out. It was true, which was good, because Jade had outright ordered him not to say anything that wasn’t. Apparently she didn’t think he was a very good liar.

He probably would have ignored her if Luke hadn’t backed her up. Even if he’d kept chuckling making some sort of joke about the benefit of masks.

“So are we, General,” Rex said, voice distorted by his helmet. “Especially if you thought it was a good idea to bring a Sith-possessed Jedi and secure him by cuffing him to a pipe.”

Anakin forced himself to shrug, because so far as they knew, it was a good point. “The cuffs are Force-suppressant. And it seemed like a better idea than leaving him alone on the ship.”

Rex said something—an affirmative “Hm,” probably. Then, “Well I’m glad you escaped, General, Commander. You get away clean?”

“Yeah,” Ahsoka said. “We’re good.”

“Come on in,” Anakin said, because Cody was still standing in the doorway, and Rex wasn’t far in front of him. If everyone in the warehouse hadn’t been a Jedi, it would have been a very effective blockade.

“Sure thing, General,” Rex said, though he didn’t move. “But first, it’s not that we don’t believe you, but this clusterfuck already has one possessed Jedi and one brainwashed one. Mind proving you’re still clear?”

“Honestly?” Anakin asked, “You’re right. This isn’t what it looks like.”

Rex and Cody both tensed. “Oh?” Cody asked, his blaster aimed a few inches higher.

“But it’s nothing bad!” Ahsoka burst out. “We promise.”

Rex and Cody tensed again.

“You know Luke and Mara are from the fut—” she cut off as Ben’s ghost flickered in between them and the clones, mouth open to shout something—

The windows imploded.

Instinctively, Anakin lashed out with the Force, shunting the raining glass away from him.

Obi-Wan was free, lightsaber up and ignited—

Just in time to block another saber. One held by Plo Koon.

“Shit!” Ahsoka hissed, ducking out of range of their blades and running toward Rex and Cody as she dodged blaster bolts thankfully set to stun.

The Force jabbed out in warning. Anakin threw himself into it, turned—

Crashed to one knee, pushed down by the saber he’d just barely caught on his own.

Ki-Adi Mundi’s face glared down at him, cast into a blue relief by their clashing blades.

“Fuck,” Anakin breathed, using the word’s exhale to sharpen his push as he shoved upward, Master Mundi’s blade sliding sideways off of his.

“Master Mundi, wait!” Anakin yelled, frantically parrying left, right, knees— “This is a misunderstanding!”

“That,” Master Mundi said, tone grave, “I very much doubt.”

\--

Luke had only a second of warning in the Force before the window closest to him shattered.

He’d barely swung himself down to the rafters’ catwalk and toward the center of the warehouse, away from the glass, when a figure landed opposite him.

It was a Jedi, going by the magenta lightsaber and the height of the window she’d burst through. Human, female-presenting. Short, blonde, and radiating nothing but determination into the Force.

But she didn’t strike immediately. “Luke Skywalker,” she said, tone utterly even.

“Yep,” Luke answered, smiling a bit. If she wanted to try talking, Luke was more than happy to oblige. “Do I get to know your name?”

The Jedi seemed to think for a moment, then tilted her head in a shrug—like motion that had the advantage of not shifting her stance. “Jedi Master Siri Tachi.”

“Nice to meet you, Master Tachi. I don’t suppose we can talk this out?”

“Sure. As soon as you surrender.”

Luke grimaced. “About that.”

Do not tell them the truth, a voice thundered through the warehouse. Old Ben’s voice. Master Tachi, though, didn’t even blink, just raised an eyebrow in response to Luke’s startlement.

 _What the Jedi Council finds out, so will the Sith Lord._ _We cannot risk the Sith Lord finding out that we’re here to stop him._

Old Ben sounded less serene than Luke had ever heard. He sounded...afraid.

Ben had been upfront about the dangers of the Council finding out, back when they’d been planning their mission. Luke had thought then, with regret, that Ben was probably right about the need to keep deceiving the Jedi Council. And Luke still thought Ben was right, especially with every clone in the GAR still primed to massacre the Jedi.

“Sorry,” Luke said to Master Tachi, voice rueful. “‘Fraid I can’t do that.”

Then he threw himself up and out of the window Master Tachi had shattered.

 _Rendezvous_ _at_ _the_ _ship_! Luke said to Mara, Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ahsoka.

Then he hit the ground running, extinguished his lightsaber, and rushed back toward the crowded labyrinth of Kafrene, Siri Tachi right behind him.

\--

Mara saw the flash of green at the same moment she felt the Force’s warning.

Green clashed against red with a loud, violent hum.

When she’d chosen to bring the red lightsaber she’d stolen from an Inquisitor and used to masquerade as Darth Vexion, it had been in case of an incident like an ambush.

Why did her pessimistic instincts always have to be right?

Oh yeah, because the Galaxy was a Force-damned mess.

“And you are?” Mara asked her opponent, going on the offensive. If she was lucky, this Jedi would be the chatty type of fighter.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi’s friend,” the man said, tone dark.

So he was invested. That could cut both ways.

“Then why are you fighting me?” Mara asked, mouth edging into a smirk. “Kenobi’s down there. Or his body is, anyway.”

But the Jedi’s eyes just narrowed, the yellow stripe across his nose contorting, as he remained laser-focused on her.

“Oh, I noticed,” he said, spinning in the windup to a devastating overhand strike—

Only to leap over her, tossing a knife right at Luke’s exposed back as he landed.

Mara swatted it with the Force, into a wall and away from Luke. Then hissed, as the move earned her a lightsaber burn to her shoulder blade.

Shallow, thankfully. But a disadvantage she didn’t need.

She turned around, lunging at her opponent, trying to knock him off the pipe they were both balancing on. But he only leapt out of reach.

“Quite the tool you’ve got there,” the man said, nodding back at Luke. “I can see why you’d want to protect him.”

At the expense of taking a hit yourself, he didn’t say.

Then Old Ben’s voice rang through the warehouse, and Mara didn’t let herself react. His warning was nothing she hadn’t known.

“Though,” her opponent mused, tone sharply idle, “if he was that useful a tool, would you have needed to protect him from my mundane little knife?”

“All tools are an investment,” Mara sneered.

Rendezvous at the ship! Luke cried, his Force presence flashing nova-bright just long enough for him to land detectably outside the warehouse, to start toward the rest of Kafrene, before being cloaked again.

None of their Jedi attackers had uncloaked, but a quick glance confirmed that Luke’s opponent had followed him.

“Hmm,” Mara’s opponent hummed. “You sure you trust him to come back?”

“Very,” Mara said, mind running through calculations. She thrust out with her lightsaber once, twice, an ariel, touch down on a higher pipe,—then, instead of attacking, pushing off and up.

Crash. The window she’d been aiming for shattered. She used the Force to shield herself from the glass shards and leapt onto an adjacent warehouse roof—making sure it was in a different direction than Luke had run.

The Jedi she’d been facing seemed happy enough to give chase.

\--

“I swear!” Ahsoka called as she dodged stun bolts and industrial equipment alike.

She’d left the warehouse almost as soon as the ambush had begun, launching herself over Rex and Cody, deflecting way too many stunners, and high-tailing it away from the warehouse as fast as she could.

Rex and Cody had followed. Thankfully, because the entire point of Kafrene had been to get a chance to talk to Rex and Cody—just Rex and Cody.

Could they manage without the clones’ help? Probably, but their chances of being caught would skyrocket.

Ahsoka ducked around a corner. “Seriously,” she called back, “I’m not being mind controlled or possessed at all, I just want to talk!”

Mara had made them all memorize several escape routes to the ship, just in case. Ahsoka’s had run through the lower and least populated warehouse levels, which had made her bristle at the time. But not anymore.

She waited—Rex and Cody had stopped, and if they moved toward the intersection she’d ducked through, she’d be able to hear the thuds of their boots right away. It was hard to move quietly in that much armor.

After a moment, Rex responded, “Strikes me that’s also what you’d say if you were mind controlled or possessed.”

Ahsoka grimaced. That was literally what Old Ben had said to everyone while he was pretending to be Obi-Wan, so…

“Look,” she shouted back, “give me five minutes. I put down my lightsabers, you put down your blasters, and you hear me out for five minutes.”

“And you’ll answer all our questions?” Cody called back, voice taut.

Ahsoka took a second to pray that her decision wouldn’t backfire, and that Mara and Luke wouldn’t hate her for it. “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, I will.”

A pause.

Then someone spoke, and it wasn’t Rex or Cody: “I suggest you take her offer. You’ll want to hear this.”

Old Ben flickered into existence, dead center in the intersection.

“Oh,” Ahsoka could hear Rex say, “this better be good.”

\--

Obi-Wan was one of the best duelists in the Jedi Order.

But Plo Koon had defeated Master Yoda in a duel, and he hadn’t done it by being average.

Even Obi-Wan’s mastery of Soresu struggled to hold off the onslaught of blows from Plo’s aggressive Form V. And while Plo’s primary mastery was in Shien, he was also extremely proficient in Djem So: the branch of Form V dedicated to lightsaber combat.

Obi-Wan supposed he was lucky, as he shunted another thrust harmlessly aside. Djem So was also Anakin’s form—to match his aggressive temperament, Obi-Wan often joked—so it was a style he had plenty of practice facing.

“Tell me,” Plo said, speaking for the first time since he’d attacked, “what did you hope to gain from Captain Rex and Commander Cody?”

 _Do not tell them the truth_ , Ben’s voice thundered. _What the Jedi Council finds out, so will the Sith Lord._

And that was a horrifying reminder of a horrifying truth.

“Ah, but that would be telling,” Obi-Wan said to his fellow Councilor, and used the potential distraction of Mara shattered a window to shove Plo with the Force.

Plo caught himself with his own Force push and landed in a perfectly controlled crouch.

Slam. The rear warehouse door banged open.

Anakin ran through it, chased by Ki-Adi Mundi, who was yelling something about the Sith.

A quick glance revealed that he and Plo were the only ones still in the warehouse.

“Surrender,” Plo said, lightsaber raised.

“Or what, you’ll do this the hard way?” Obi-Wan asked. There had to be a way back to the ship that didn’t involve hurting Plo, who was both a fellow Councilor and a good friend. Obi-Wan just had to find it.

But Plo was far too good a duelist for Obi-Wan to be sure he could get away clean.

“Or this will take longer than it needs to, and be harder on Obi-Wan than it needs to,” Plo said. “You professed to care about Obi-Wan’s discomfort. Show that at least some of your words were genuine, and don’t prolong it.”

“That confident, are we?” Obi-Wan retorted, but his mouth was on autopilot.

They were alone, and Plo had always been reasonable. One of the least hidebound Councilors, trained as a Baran Do Sage and not just as a Jedi. Able to use techniques that some even labeled Dark.

But Plo didn’t even think that he was talking to Obi-Wan Kenobi. Reasonably, given the many times he truly hadn’t been. But—well, it didn’t help Obi-Wan’s situation.

But he wouldn’t risk hurting Plo. Not as a friend, not as a Jedi, and not as a General who was desperately needed for the war effort, especially with Obi-Wan’s absence.

“How did you do it?” Plo asked. “How did you Turn Anakin Skywalker so quickly?”

Fuck. How much had Anakin fighting Ki-Adi, instead of pretending to turn against Obi-Wan, hurt their already horrid chances of being believed? Of ever being accepted back at the Temple, even if they somehow won—

“I’m sorry, but did it feel like he was using the Dark Side?” Obi-Wan was not going to let the Council believe that his former Padawan had Fallen, not if he could do something about it.

“It did not,” Plo said, punctuating the statement with a harsh thrust that managed to drive Obi-Wan back. “But the Dark Side has often eluded us. He lured in two of the highest ranked officers in the GAR, pretended to have captured you, and when a strike team came to rescue him, he attacked us instead. If there’s another explanation for his behavior, I’m eager to hear it.”

That was the best opening he’d ever get. The question was who he trusted more: Plo Koon or his future self.

And, of course, whether Plo would even believe what he thought to be a Sith ghost possessing the body of his friend, to extremely dubious-looking ends.

Obi-Wan parried another strike, barely.

But Plo had overextended, finally, the kind of opening Soresu was designed to wait for, and Obi-Wan moved—

It was a feint. One that took half Obi-Wan’s sleeve and left a shallow burn across his saber arm.

“You’re quite good at acting like Obi-Wan, you know,” Plo said, pressing Obi-Wan’s defenses even harder. “You even duel like him.”

“Have you considered,” Obi-Wan exhaled, pushing with his lightsaber and the Force hard enough to dislodge Plo, if only for a few seconds, “that maybe I am Obi-Wan Kenobi?”

Plo didn’t renew the attack. He stood still, a few feet out of saber reach. “Considered? Yes. And rejected. Obi-Wan Kenobi would never aid the Sith, much less kidnap his best friend and a sixteen-year-old Padawan, and then set an extremely sadistic Sith Lord and her brainwashed fanatic loose on the Galaxy.”

Before Obi-Wan could decide what, exactly, he could even say to that, Plo renewed the attack.

“If you can hear me, Obi-Wan,” Plo said as he cleaved forward, sounding far less strained than Obi-Wan felt, “I am sorry for this.”

Then Obi-Wan narrowly blocked a cut that would have severed his lightsaber arm.

Obi-Wan didn’t have enough breath to swallow, but he did have the impulse. Apparently Plo had reserved some judgment, or at least the full extent of his strength, in trying not to harm Obi-Wan.

Or, well. His body.

Plo’s strikes grew improbably faster. Whatever had held him back initially, Obi-Wan had clearly changed Plo’s mind.

Plo aimed blow after blow at Obi-Wan’s lightsaber arm, and at his legs, to cut him off at the knees.

Form V was tiring, and normally Obi-Wan’s restrained Soresu would be an enduring and successful counter.

But most duelists didn’t have Plo’s skill. And Obi-Wan was still recovering from a week confined to a Force-suppressant cell, trapped within his own mind.

He had to end the fight, or it would likely be ended for him.

But of course, he thought, Force-tossing some crates at Plo and forcing the Kel Dor to dodge backwards, if it was that easy—

A thought struck.

“Don’t come any closer,” Obi-Wan called, as Plo shoved the last of the crates away.

A terrible thought.

Obi-Wan raised his lightsaber to his own neck.

“Attack again, and I’ll kill Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: In the last few sentences of this fic, Obi-Wan pretends to be the entity "possessing him" and threatens to kill "Obi-Wan" (ie, himself) in a ploy to get away from someone. It's completely a ploy, though, and he is in no way thinking about following through with it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yall are really sweet. I appreciate all of the comments and support a lot, especially from people who rarely comment but made an exception in an effort to cheer me up. I'm doing better for the moment, and I'll get to answering the comments when I have more time and energy.
> 
> So here it is: the end of Part 1! Thanks to SapphiraBlue for the beta.
> 
> Warnings: that discussion of suicide from the end of the last chapter is about to continue...

Obi-Wan forced himself not to show any expression, pulled on every shred of Jedi self-control, every minute he’d spent meditating, every scrap of composure learned as he’d negotiated treaties, carried out missions, and survived people trying to kill him.

He also tried very, very hard not to think about anything except how he was going to get out of the building.

Plo Koon was stiff, lightsaber lowered in response to Obi-Wan’s threat. But it wasn’t lowered by much.

“You don’t want to do that,” Plo said, his voice grave. The anti-ox mask and goggles that protected him from the oxygen rich atmosphere hid his expression, but his skin had lightened around their edges, tension pushing out the blood flow.

“You’re right,” Obi-Wan said. “I don’t want to do this.”

He and Plo had both had the Order’s hostage negotiation training, and they both had experience to go with it. He had to sound in control, because if he sounded too desperate or too hostile—like he might follow through on his threat anyway, were he _actually_ a mysterious Sith ghost—Plo wouldn’t let him go.

“But to me,” Obi-Wan continued, “this? It’s just a body. If your friend dies, I’ll be incorporeal once more. I’ll escape, but he’ll be dead.”

He had to sound in control, but he also couldn’t sound lenient or apologetic, couldn’t let Plo think there was an opening. Not if he wanted to get out of there.

“If you can escape so easily, why not leave Obi-Wan Kenobi’s body and do so? If I indeed cannot stop you, why are you taking a hostage?”

“Well,” Obi-Wan replied, sounding as nonchalant as he could with the heat of his saber against his throat, “it’s simple. Leverage.”

Plo’s tone was dubious. “Which you need in a situation you claim you can easily escape?”

Well, yes, but obviously he couldn’t admit that.

“I have goals beyond escaping this warehouse, you know. And having a Jedi Councilor on your side is quite useful, for a number of aims.”

Technically, he hadn’t _lied_. He just hadn’t mentioned that said Jedi Councilor wasn’t being possessed. And of course, Obi-Wan was always on the same side as himself.

Plo inclined his head. “I imagine that’s true. But I also believe that Obi-Wan would rather give his life than be used to further the aims of the Sith.”

_Fuck._

“Perhaps that’s true,” Obi-Wan said, “but consider this: Obi-Wan is still in here. He doesn’t want to die. He harbors some notion that he can turn the tables on me and my compatriots. Now, personally, I doubt that, but the fact is, if you let me go, he has a chance. However, if you kill me, that chance is gone forever, while I am only minorly inconvenienced.”

Obi-Wan would be the first to admit that he was known for being rather cavalier about danger, but describing his own death as a “minor inconvenience” was pushing it, even for him.

But perhaps he’d find out how inconvenient death was, if Plo called his bluff. Not because he was actually going to kill himself, but because Plo just might try to do it for him…

After all, Plo had no reason to think “the entity” was telling the truth. And Obi-Wan had no idea what orders the Council had given, with regards to his life.

“Fine.” Plo lowered his lightsaber, and Obi-Wan almost did a double take.

“Leave,” Plo said, “and do it before I change my mind.”

Obi-Wan backed toward the door, not taking his eyes off Plo even for a second.

“But know this, Sith,” Plo said. “If you attempt this threat again, or attempt it with your companions nearby, my calculations will have changed.”

Obi-Wan forced on his most winsome smile. “But of course.”

As he exited the warehouse and turned to run toward his ship, he had to suppress a wild, manic laugh. He’d escaped. Somehow. Terribly. But he’d done it.

That just left getting off Kafrene.

\--

By the time Obi-Wan got to the ship, it was a Correllian standoff.

Not that he was surprised, particularly. There were only so many tactical options, when whoever arrived at the ship first would have had to hold it, unable to take off until the others arrived.

Someone was in the cockpit—the freighter’s engines were hot and its lights were on. Probably Mara, Obi-Wan thought, shoving aside everything but situational analysis. She had left next after Luke, after all, and was of everyone the most likely to pull significantly ahead of her pursuit, given her past as a spy.

Also, Luke was the one guarding the ship’s bay door against Siri and Quinlan. Who were directly between Obi-Wan and said door.

 _Shit_ , he thought—Plo couldn’t be far behind him, but introducing himself into the situation was _not_ going to keep things from escalating, especially not with two of his closest friends, however duty-bound they might be—

A familiar shock of hair grabbed Obi-Wan’s attention, as Anakin dropped from the ceiling of the next building over onto the roof of the ship, then flipped himself down and through the bay door without missing a beat.

Ki-Adi Mundi was nowhere to be seen.

“Skywalker!” Siri yelled. Both Anakin and Luke glanced up, even as Anakin ignited his lightsaber and joined Luke in his defensive posturing.

Luke and Anakin glanced at each other, then Anakin shouted, “Yeah?”

Siri opened her mouth to yell something back, but before she could, Quinlan shouted, “What the _fuck_ are you _doing_?”

Anakin grimaced and Obi-Wan sighed. A good liar, his former Padawan was not.

“Seriously,” Quinlan continued, “we all saw you get kidnapped on the security holo, so why the fuck are you going along with this? Why the fuck aren’t you working with _us_ to _bring them in_?”

Anakin’s head bent, ever so slightly. Something dark came over his expression.

“Maybe I Fell,” Anakin said, voice low. “Maybe I was always meant to. Just like all the _Jedi_ have _always feared._ ”

Obi-Wan sighed again. They were in enough trouble without the hole Anakin was about to dig for himself.

“Yeah,” Quinlan retorted, “I can totally tell from how you barely laid a scratch on Mundi and fled at the first opportunity! _Definitely_ the behavior of a bloodthirsty, hate-filled Sith.”

“And how would you know?” Anakin was almost shouting. “It’s not like you’ve ever met one! You couldn’t tell whether someone was Fallen if they were standing right in front of you!”

Luke’s expression was the slightest bit pinched.

Obi-Wan was pretty sure his face was pinched too. He did not have a lot of options, but he had to do _something_ before either a fight broke out, or Anakin said something even more obvious.

Movement, across the hangar bay. The human eye was drawn to movement, and to white—

And clone trooper armor was mostly white.

“Lightsabers down, or the clone gets it!” A voice shouted.

 _Rex’s_ voice shouted.

Because he had his blaster aimed at Cody’s bare head. And Ahsoka’s lightsaber was aimed at his neck.

“Captain?” Siri asked, voice dry as Tatooine.

“I’m afraid the good captain isn’t here right now,” Rex said.

Siri and Quinlan both stilled as they understood.

So did Obi-Wan. His older self had said he was incapable of possessing anyone else, had it been another lie, would Obi-Wan some day turn into someone so ready to use others like puppets and lock them up in their own minds—

“One clone?” Quinlan scoffed. “Just FYI, a Jedi Councilor was better leverage.”

Rex’s face was bare too, helmet secured to the back of his pauldron. He didn’t react to the insult, which Obi-Wan sincerely hoped was a bluff, because _seriously, Quinlan?_

But no. While Cody’s face was the picture of furious resistance, of a prisoner of war, one not thrilled about being written off but ready to do his duty, Rex’s face was stone.

“I thought the _Jedi_ were supposed _care_ about other beings!” Ahsoka shouted. She did, indeed, sound angry and unstable enough to pass as a Darksider. “Besides, he’s the Marshall Commander of the entire GAR, and second in command to the man running—excuse, me, who _was running_ —over half the war effort. You really think he’s dispensable?”

“That sounds more like an argument for the importance of keeping him out of your hands,” Siri offered.

Rex waved his free hand, the one that wasn’t holding a blaster to his brother’s head, and Siri and Quinlan were thrown back ten feet.

 _What_.

Yes, Siri and Quinlan had successfully been caught off-guard, but still— _what?_ ould a Force ghost even _use_ the Force through a non-sensitive vessel?

Well. Regardless, his plan to pull the same thing on Siri and Quinlan that he had on Plo was out. And if “Ben” was possessing Rex, or at least appearing to, then that killed any excuse Obi-Wan had for getting on the ship.

Unless he was willing to risk the Jedi Council truly believing him Fallen. And were it only his reputation at stake, he would, in a heartbeat, but at some point, when they’d accumulated enough evidence to override their utter dubiousness as sources, they would need the Jedi Council to _believe them_ about the threat Sidious posed.

Rex, Cody, and Ahsoka had started moving as soon as Siri and Quinlan were thrown back, were halfway to the ship.

“Commander Cody?” Quinlan called.

“I’m sorry, General,” Cody said, voice tight but displaying no resentment over Siri and Quinlan’s threats. “They caught me off guard.”

Even Obi-Wan knew that wasn’t what Quinlan had been asking.

“Status report,” Quinlan answered. Siri was creeping closer in the meantime, though the clones had clearly noticed.

“Say nothing,” Rex ordered, jabbing his blaster more firmly into Cody’s skull. “And Jedi! Don’t try it.”

But lunging from a distance was one of Siri’s best moves—far more of a distance than most expected of a Jedi’s attack range.

The faintest sound behind him. An indrawn breath, through some sort of filter—

Obi-Wan whirled—

“I do believe your grace period has elapsed,” Plo said.

 _Shit_.

Obi-Wan spun back toward the hangar bay, turning his back on Plo and shooting his arm out even before he’d finished turning.

The Force responded. Quinlan and Siri were knocked back, this time not just a few feet but almost to the far wall. Both caught themselves, Siri with the Force and Quinlan by twisting midair and landing, crouched against the wall, on his feet—

But Rex/Ben, Cody, and Ahsoka had already taken advantage, bounded up the bottom of the ramp.

And Obi-Wan gathered the Force, threw himself forward in maybe the fastest Force-assisted leap he’d ever made—

He landed hard on the smooth metal of the ramp, the clang of the impact almost blocking it out as Luke yelled, into the air and the Force, “Mara, close it! Close it now!”

The ramp lurched under Obi-Wan, but he was already moving.

A warping hiss. Obi-Wan had his lightsaber up just in time to block Quinlan’s blade, pushing back against it to try to force him off the ramp.

Then he had to duck under a blaster shot, because Siri didn’t share his disdain for the more barbaric weapons.

The ramp trembled and stopped closing, Mara apparently not wanting to risk locking a hostile Jedi in the ship with them.

A yank on him in the Force, one that had the taste of Plo, pulled him forward, but Obi-Wan managed to anchor himself against it, even as Luke took over blaster bolt deflection and Anakin lunged for Quinlan’s unprotected side.

But it was a feint. With Quinlan, it was always a feint.

Which was how Anakin ended up on the floor, Quinlan on top of him, pinning him at the waist and arms, lightsaber buzzing far too close to Anakin’s neck.

Quinlan’s head was carefully positioned to keep everyone in view. Obi-Wan knew that Ahsoka, Rex, and Cody had made it on board, but he couldn’t turn his head to look, not with Quinlan’s free hand open and pointed straight at Obi-Wan, in case he should move.

The ramp had raised enough to obstruct some of Plo and Siri’s view, but not enough that they couldn’t see that Quinlan had taken Anakin hostage, and that everyone else had frozen.

“Enough!” Plo yelled. Obi-Wan’s gaze shifted just the slightest bit, letting him see Plo while still keeping Quinlan in his sights. “ _Yield_.”

Obi-Wan would love to. But the fate of the Galaxy was at stake, and Obi-Wan had been on the Council long enough to know it would be too busy imprisoning and disbelieving them all to act in time.

Plo would wait for them to make a move. Probably. Obi-Wan turned his gaze back to Quinlan, and Quinlan met is as best—and defiantly—as he could, while still keeping an eye on the others.

“Quinlan,” Obi-Wan said, far too low for anyone outside the ship to hear, not over the whine and roar of the engines. “I need you to trust me.”

“Yeah?” Quinlan asked, eyebrow cocked.

Obi-Wan had no idea what Quinlan thought was going on, whether he thought that Obi-Wan was still possessed, or that Rex was; whether he thought Obi-Wan was Dark or not—

But Obi-Wan had to try.

Carefully, he let his shields down just a little, pushed sincerity and non-hostility at Quinlan and only Quinlan, along with _Don_ _’t stab me, please._

Then he pushed forward and down, sliding his still-ignited saber under Quinlan’s and forcing it up, away from Quinlan’s head, at the exact same time as his non-dominant hand made contact with the one Quinlan had used to guard against him.

Quinlan’s eyes glazed over the slightest bit, but Obi-Wan kept moving, used his momentum to shove Quinlan off Anakin.

Quinlan rolled on reflex, saber extinguishing, to avoid ending up under Obi-Wan. By the time he was on his feet, his usual sharp gaze was back. His saber reignited.

Obi-Wan mustered the Force and shoved Quinlan back off the ship.

The ramp started closing again, immediately, whether because Mara had found a security feed or Luke had told her through the Force.

Obi-Wan stayed ready with his lightsaber, as did Luke and Anakin, in case anyone else tried to jump on board.

But no one did.

And within seconds, the ramp had closed, and they had lifted off.

Until that last second, Quinlan’s gaze had seared into Obi-Wan’s.

Knowing Quinlan, that meant that either Obi-Wan was dead the next time they met, or Quinlan was furiously debating something.

When Obi-Wan had shoved him off the ship, Quinlan hadn’t resisted.

\--

“That could have gone better,” Master Koon said, voice simultaneously dry and heavy.

Siri scoffed. “You don’t say.” Then she whirled on Quinlan: “And you! What the fuck were you thinking, going into battle without your gloves.”

Quinlan just rolled his eyes. It was how Siri showed she cared, some days—and besides, he couldn’t really muster more reaction.

He was way too thrown by what his psychometry had shown him.

“I had to take them off to track Vexion,” he managed. “She almost lost me. Didn’t want to stop to put them back on in the middle of a standoff.”

Siri’s eyes narrowed, but she nodded sharply—really, she did most things sharply—and calmed down. Back to business.

“I don’t suppose,” Master Koon said into the silence, “that either of you know what happened to Master Mundi?”

Quinlan exchanged a glance with Siri.

Well, when he’d accused Anakin of not hurting Master Mundi, Anakin hadn’t contradicted him, so—

Quinlan stopped shielding his Force presence and sent out a pulse, one ringing with his signature, across half of Kafrene. After all, the Force sensitives they’d needed to hide from had just flown off.

Another pulse came back seconds later, tasting of Mundi. Questioning and vexed, but no feeling of distress.

All three Jedi relaxed.

“We’ll wait here for him,” Master Koon said. “In the meantime, Knight Tachi, comm Kafrene’s security and tell them to get the hyperspace trajectory of that ship. Knight Vos, see if your psychometry can find any hints of their next destination.”

Yeah, because that was exactly what he wanted to do.

It already stung, to have his talents turned into a weakness by one of the only people who knew him well enough to do so. Sure, he’d been conscious enough to not impale himself on his own lightsaber, _but what if he hadn’t been_?

But of course, Obi-Wan, or anyone with Obi-Wan’s memories, would have known that he’d be fine. That he maintained awareness of his surroundings during visions, if not a higher-order ability to react to them.

Still, the betrayal—or the violation of Obi-Wan in order to hurt him. That burned.

“Sure thing,” he said to Master Koon, giving a jaunty salute.

Judging by Siri’s side eye, she knew he was thrown, although she also had the perfect explanation for it. He didn’t think Master Koon had noticed, though.

Slowly, Quinlan meandered over to where Ahsoka, Captain Rex, and Commander Cody had tread. He bent down over a spot where he was pretty sure they had stepped—he’d trained himself to automatically take in those details, over the years. But he didn’t touch the ground yet, just kept his hands out of Siri and Master Koon’s view.

He needed a moment to think about what he’d seen.

What Obi-Wan or something inside Obi-Wan had shown him.

_A gray, metal room. Anakin Skywalker sat upright in a metal chair, hands cuffed behind its back. He looked awful—exhausted and enraged._

_Obi-Wan’s body was there. Whoever was in it felt so, so weary. Anakin was refusing to look at it._

“ _You probably won’t believe me,”_ _Maybe-Obi-Wan_ _began, “but I am Obi-Wan Kenobi. I am in control of my own body. And I am sorry that it came to this.”_

_Tiredness. Longing. Pain. Sincerity._

And then the vision had ended.

There was no way for anyone besides Quinlan to direct his psychometry. But the visions did respond to his intentions, and Obi-Wan had known that—and so the entity would have too.

Quinlan had been looking for answers. But he’d long since learned that just because he saw an answer, that didn’t mean it was true. That it had happened, yes. But true? That was a different matter. And even then, there were so many things that could be construed as answers, or generate whatever emotions Quinlan was looking for—it was far from a science. If the hand-to-hand contact had been meant as anything besides a distraction, then whoever had initiated it had been taking a risk.

Though, Quinlan acknowledged ruefully, it had made a great distraction.

Had it been Obi-Wan? In the vision, or on the ship’s ramp? Quinlan didn’t know. He’d only felt one set of emotions in the vision, only one set from the hand he was touching. But that might not mean anything—he’d never touched Obi-Wan when he’d definitely been possessed.

 _Assuming Obi-Wan had ever been possessed_.

But no, Quinlan couldn’t believe that. Not from what he’d been told about the Council meeting where the entity had been unmasked. And yes, the war meant he hadn’t seen Obi-Wan in months, but he still _knew_ Obi-Wan, one of his closest friends. Obi-Wan would never betray the Jedi—not like that. And if he’d been under some sort of duress, he would have found a way to say so.

Unless he’d decided to be a self-sacrificing fuck again, but dealing with Sith possession on his own? Well…Okay, Quinlan could reluctantly admit that Obi-Wan might go there. Maybe.

“So,” Siri said, “what do we think? Obi-Wan and Captain Rex can’t both have been possessed at the same time, so which one defected?”

“Maybe Tano was mind tricking him,” Quinlan suggested, though he didn’t really believe it.

“Let us pray it was the captain who defected,” Master Koon rumbled. “The alternative is not pleasant.”

The alternative being that Obi-Wan had Fallen.

Or were there _alternatives_? Because when Obi-Wan or something inside him had lowered his shields, reached out, said _Trust me_ , Quinlan hadn’t felt any malice. Nor a single hint of the Dark Side.

But it looked so incredibly _damning_.

Quinlan resisted the temptation to sigh explosively. If Obi-Wan was somehow innocent, Quinlan wasn’t going to risk getting him in trouble with the Jedi Council until he knew for sure what was going on.

But in order to know, he’d need more facts.

He touched the ground.

The scene was a repeat of what he’d seen, in a more mundane fashion, minutes before. Ahsoka and Captain Rex holding Commander Cody hostage.

Emotionally…

_They were tense, all of them. An edge of fear that felt like Ahsoka. A hollow bravado that felt like Rex. Determination that felt like all three._

_All three, because there were only three sets of emotions._

So either he really did have no ability to tell when someone was possessed, or neither of them had been.

Quinlan honestly wasn’t sure which would be more of a headache. Or which he was more afraid of.

\--

As the ship lifted off, silence resounded in the cargo bay. As the seconds passed, the tension of the situation eased, slowly—weapons were extinguished. Ahsoka and maybe-Rex, maybe-Obi-Wan’s-future-ghost had stopped threatening Cody, thankfully. Anakin pushed himself into a sitting position, then stood after a moment to brace himself.

Luke looked kind of confused. Obi-Wan acutely sympathized.

Then a blue figure blinked into place next to Rex. “Well,” Obi-Wan’s future self said, “that could have gone worse.”

Obi-Wan, for once, couldn’t quite figure out to say, but Luke just laughed, the bulk of his tension easing. “Yeah, but it could have gone better.”

Then Ben turned to Rex. “Superb performance, Captain.”

“Thanks,” Rex said, wry, and leaned back against the bay wall. “High compliment, coming from you.”

“So that wasn’t you?” Obi-Wan cut in. After everything he’d been subjected to, what he was starting to fear again about what he’d become, he was almost afraid to hope—

His older self blinked. “No, of course not. As I told you, Force ghosts can’t actually possess people without use of the Dark Side—the only reason I could take over your body was the fact that it was, in a way, also mine.”

“Besides,” Rex snorted, “I’d put up with a lot of things for your sake, but being mind tricked by Ventress was bad enough. Force users can stay the hell away from my brain, thanks.”

 _Oh_. “Oh, good.”

Maybe there’d been something in Obi-Wan’s tone, because most of the room was shooting him worried looks.

“Now then,” Cody said, thankfully shifting the attention off Obi-Wan—which Cody had definitely done on purpose. “I believe that you all owe us a serious explanation.”

“Yes,” Ben said, because apparently he knew what was going on. “Shall we move somewhere more comfortable?”

\--

 _More comfortable_ turned out to be the ship’s mess. By the time they’d all gotten settled in, procured food, water, or tea, and begun to recover from the adrenaline of the fight, the ship was in hyperspace and Mara had come to join them.

 _Thankfully_ , Luke thought, sinking further into his wife’s side. He’d managed to stake out part of the actual, cushioned bench for the two of them, and Force, his aching muscles were grateful.

He missed being eighteen. Well, having the body of someone who was eighteen.

Well, he missed having his muscles not ache so easily, anyway. And he also missed running missions from the cockpit of his x-wing.

Literal running had never been his favorite activity, even before he’d been made to do it with Yoda on his back.

“So that’s the story?” Cody asked.

“Pretty much,” Anakin said. “Sorry you’re caught up in this.”

“Well,” Rex said, smirking, “we did drag the Jedi Council down on your heads, so I guess we’re even.”

“Wait—” Anakin said, although Luke privately thought it sounded a bit like a squawk.

Darth Vader squawking was a truly odd mental image. He pushed it down his bond with Mara, and grinned when she sent her amusement back.

“Wait—you mean they didn’t just track you here?” The indignance in that tone was a good reminder that, for all Anakin Skywalker was his father, Anakin Skywalker was also twenty-two.

“Obviously,” Mara said, leaning her head back against Luke’s arm, where it was draped around her. “The timing and execution of the ambush was far too precise for it not to have been a deliberate setup.”

Anakin narrowed his eyes—

“Hey,” Rex said, “we _were_ ready to hear you out. But the Jedi briefed us on what happened, and with what was going on? It was too big of a risk to take if we weren’t totally, completely sure you were on the level.”

“And if you were,” Cody added wryly, “we were hoping there would be more talking and fewer lightsabers.”

The younger Obi-Wan, to Luke’s surprise, actually winced. His older self, though, looked as serene as ever, saying simply. “Yes, well. Needs must.”

“So you believe us?” Ahsoka asked, leaning in toward the table from where she was perched on the counter.

Rex shrugged, and Cody nodded. “Hey,” Cody said, “this isn’t even the weirdest Jedi shit we’ve seen.”

Luke liked Rex and Cody a lot.

“So,” Rex said. “Downfall of the Republic and all that. I’m assuming you have a plan to stop it?”

“We do,” Luke said, nodding. All eyes were quickly on him, even though they’d already worked out the plan—assuming they could get Rex and Cody on board—but after ten years as a Jedi Master, Luke was used to that.

“We’re going to Kamino.”

Rex snorted. “So that’s why you needed us.”

“Not that your tactical knowledge and martial expertise isn’t useful,” Mara said smoothly, “but yes. We’re already en route.”


End file.
